Crossed paths
by Shadow-ying
Summary: After the death of the Green Goblin, Spider-Man hoped that his life might slowly return to normal. But with troubles at work, damaged friendships and a returning ex, Peter's life isn't going to calm down anytime soon. And with the promise of a brand new threat to the city, Peter may need to turn to the Black Cat for a helping hand, if he can learn to trust her again.
1. Bye Bye Gobby

Spider-man and all its related characters belongs to Marvel.

The story is set in my own timeline, major inspirations come from Spider-man The animated series, Spectacular Spider-man and Spider-man (PS4) along with various comics I have read over the years.

* * *

Sitting stiffly on her sofa, May Parker stared at the television waiting for the breaking story that one way or another would mark the end of the long nightmare that she and her nephew had been living through these past few weeks.

Any second now, J Jonah Jameson was going to stop talking about crime rates or city elections or whatever piece of news that he was reporting on and get that look in his eye. The look that any loyal watcher of the man's broadcasts was able to identify, because nothing in all of journalism could get Jameson fired up quite like a story about Spider-man.

But on he droned, the news remaining Spider-man free. Instead of announcing the arrest of the Green Goblin and alleviating her fears, Jameson began talking about some repairs going on in Harlem's underground subway tunnels. Checking her watch May Parker saw that she would only have the pleasure of Jameson's broadcast for another ten minutes before he signed on over to the eleven o'clock news anchor.

She tried to ignore the sense of fear that swept through her as time continued to tick on by.

"No news is good news May." She mumbled to herself, but the old proverb didn't ease her anxiety. Because while she was certain that if anything terrible had happened to Peter, the monstrous Green Goblin would be quick to make it public, perhaps parading his body around the city, there were plenty of other dark alternatives nagging away at May Parker as to the absence of a big breaking Spider-man story

The Green Goblin, once just another one of these masked menace types that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere to terrorise the city and its people. But unlike many of her nephew's enemies who were only interested in stealing or serving some insane goal, the Green Goblin had quickly set his sights on becoming the next big man of crime, planning to overthrow the current mob bosses and sow chaos throughout the city.

He quickly proved himself a formidable enemy to Peter matching him in both strength and speed and there fights were brutal affairs judging by the number of cuts and bruises her nephew tried to keep hidden from her, but time and time again, Spider-man had been there to foil the madman's schemes and prevent innocents from being harmed.

It was a job no relative could love, but May Parker felt unmeasurable pride in Peter every time she watched a segment on the news showing him swinging into action. The city may not always appreciate Spider-man, but still he would continue to do the right thing and save the day.

For a time, it became like a scripted event. The Green Goblin would attack, cause some damage and then in came Spider-man who would fight tooth and nail to stop whatever the latest scheme was to seize power or weaken the cities various enterprises, and then the Green Goblin, realising that things were once again not going his way would turn tail and fly away.

Of course Peter would give chase, but sadly the Goblin had proven most elusive and had managed to evaded capture time and time again, allowing the city to know that the madness was not yet over, and that this would all repeat itself once again.

This all had changed when Peter had come home one day after battling the Goblin with a look of pure fear.

"He knows who I am."

From that moment on, the Parker household had been living on borrowed time. The Green Goblin had proven himself to be ruthless, attacking charity events, unleashing new monsters upon the city and transforming entire street blocks into war zones thanks to his battles with local mob bosses. Nowhere was safe. Peter said that the Goblin was mad and that there was no line he wouldn't cross to achieve his goals, which of course included the elimination of Spider-man. He has asked May to leave, but the thought of abandoning Peter, the last of her family, was impossible for her.

As amazing as Peter Parker was, he couldn't do this alone.

May had seen the way this ordeal had been treating Peter, living in fear, jumping at shadows, second guessing every decision he made, wondering if he was jeopardizing their safety or unwittingly playing into that madman's hands. That kind of pressure wasn't healthy for someone as good as him, and it had caused him to slowly change.

He had begun acting more violent, venting out his anger on those criminals who swore loyalty to the Goblin and refused to give either him or the Police even a clue as to the madman's identity or location. Every failed interrogation, every close call, every escape just kept adding to Peter's turmoil. It was becoming too much for him. Others had also begun noticing Spider-man's new brutality, Jameson especially, bringing more grief down upon her nephew.

It was all taking its toll on Peter and May feared it was only a matter of time until he snapped.

And then tonight, tonight Peter had sworn it would all be over, that he would make everything all right and end the danger to their lives, forever. May had wanted to believe in him as she held him tight against her, but no matter how good her nephew was or how amazing he could be, there were some things that couldn't be fixed.

May feared that no matter the outcome the Parker household would never be the same again.

"I'm afraid that's all we have time for tonight." Jameson's voice breaking May from her thoughts and back to her all too empty living room. "I thank you all for joining me here at the J3 news broadcast and I will now be handing you over to my colleague Charlie Snow. I'm James Jonah Jameson and I wish you all a heartfelt goodnight."

Rising from the sofa, May moved through her home in a daze, the only thing that was real to her was the phone she had removed from her trouser pocket. Her fingers were on autopilot as she quickly unlocked the device and began dialling Peter's number.

"Pick up, pick up." She prayed as she listened to the tone, waiting to hear Peter's voice and put to rest her fears.

Instead the dead dial tone mocked her. For a long minute she listened to it, waiting for something to happen, but it never did. Eventually the call disconnected and May found herself in the kitchen in total darkness.

She had experienced nightmares like this; that one night Peter wouldn't come home to her. They had taken many shapes and forms over the years, but the end result was that May found herself alone, forever cut off from Ben and Peter. Sitting in the morning sun, with her nephew eating his breakfast she had been able to easily dismiss those dreams and focus on what was before her, but here in the dark all those terrible visions came creeping back into her memory.

"Stop it May." She muttered. "Peter's going to be alright."

Guiding herself with the light from her phone, May reached through the darkness and found the light switch. Then pulling out a chair from under the kitchen table May Parker sunk down into it and once again began trying to call Peter.

All she received in response was the same mocking dial tone.

"He's not coming back."

Shaking her head, May tried to remove the whispers of doom that her mind was conjuring and began looking around the kitchen, as if anything there might be able to distract herself from the growing sense of emptiness and dread she was experiencing.

"He's dead, lying in some dark back alley. It could take days, perhaps weeks for somebody to stumble across him."

Her head eventually turned to the direction of the fridge, and there held in place by Peter's first homemade magnet was a photograph. Rising from her chair, her phone still clutched tightly in her hand, May took the frozen image down and remembered.

It had been taken on one of Ben's birthdays; the three of them were sitting around the kitchen table each wearing a party hat as a cake, holding many candles, sat before them. They were all smiling, but not the large put on for show smiles captured in images intended to be shown off, but those of genuine happiness because back then they were a perfectly content little family, and they had always believed it would last. Stroking the photo fondly May longed for the days when the problems of the world seemed so distant.

And Ben, how she wished he was here with her now. Patient, kind and always good, she knew in her heart that while he would never be able to fix all the problems he was always willing to try, just like Peter. How she missed him.

Dialling Peter's number once again, May carefully returned the photo back on the fridge and began moving out of the kitchen. She could not, would not, sit still any longer, if Peter was out there hurt then she needed to go looking for him. New York was a big place, but during his time as the web swinging hero her nephew had made many allies who May felt she could call upon to help in this time of need. It would be a needle in a haystack search, but she had to do something.

Listening to the phone's dial tone once again, May stepped into the hallway and reached for her coat when a voice she was all too familiar with came from her living room.

"This is James Jonah Jameson, coming to you live with a special news bulletin."

Moving faster than she had in years, May ran into the living room and saw that Jameson had once again returned to her television set and was pushing the previous newscaster off screen.

"Get out of my way Charlie." The man barked causing the man to quickly give up his protests and exit his chair. Smoothly sitting down Jameson stared right into the camera and began. "I am sorry to have to interrupt but mere moments ago; I received news of the most shocking nature and felt it was my duty to inform you, the public, of its contents."

May was now kneeling in front of the television, fear gripping her tightly with its cold touch. The look was in Jameson's eyes, there was no mistaking it. This was it.

"Minutes ago, Norman Osborn, founder and CEO of Oscorp Industries was found dead inside of his home by members of his family. While Police officers have closed off the scene and are beginning their investigation, we have had two witness's testimonies placing Spider-man there in Mr. Osborn's office at the time the body was found."

May Parker blinked. This isn't what she had expected.

Rolling his shoulders, forcing himself to stay calm Jameson continued. "While it is not yet known why Spider-man was there, the Police I am sure would like to take in that wall c-," he breathed through his nose. "Excuse me, I am sure the police would very much like to talk to Spider-man and ask him some questions that might shed some light on this grim situation. As of this time however there is no actual cause to suspect Spider-man is directly responsible but we here at the J3 news broadcast will stick to this story and keep you informed at every update. I am James Jonah Jameson and I will now return you to my colleague Charlie Snow."

May took in a deep breath, closed her eyes and thanked whoever was out there listening. Peter was alive. And for a brief second her fears had been put to rest. But as quickly as relief had come it was then replaced by questions, hundreds of questions. Why had Peter been at Norman's Osborn's home when he should have been dealing with the Green Goblin? Was Norman an unfortunate victim caught in the crossfire? Could Peter be blamed for Osborn's death? If so, how long was it before the papers began demanding the arrest of Spider-man again? And why hadn't Jameson talked about the Goblin? Had he escaped once again? Was Peter unable to call due to his commitment to the no doubt devastated Harry?

She could have gone on all night wondering all of these things and more when a loud thump came from upstairs followed by some glass breaking.

"Peter?" May yelled moving out the room and into the hallway, climbing two steps at a time she scaled her staircase and was outside of his bedroom door in record time. "Peter is that you?"

Opening the door May found Peter's bedroom in almost complete darkness. The only source of light was a few stray rays from the street lamp outside peeking through the curtains whenever the wind brushed against them.

"Peter?" May Parker ran her hand against the wall seeking out her nephews light switch.

"Keep the lights off."

"Peter?" May asked, recognising the voice as that of her nephews but not the tone. In all the years she had been privileged to have raised him, she had never heard him sound so defeated. "Peter what happened?"

A shadow broke from the darkness and came towards her, powerful arms wrapped around her body holding May tightly against it. For a moment she panicked, surprised at the shadow's speed and the force of the creatures hold on her but a second later and she heard a sound that broke her heart. It was mix between a howl and a whimper, a premature release of emotion trapped deep below the surface that was then followed by a broken sob. Peter was alive and home but he was also in pain.

"It's alright." May said trying to comfort him. With one arm returning her nephews bone crushing hug the other quickly got to work exploring his body. She feared he would be wounded, a bloody mess barley clinging to life. But instead of gaping wounds and running blood oozing from his sides, she discovered the perfect fabric mesh of his costume. After a few more seconds of blindly checking his chest and back May could safely say that Peter was no worse for wear than when he had left her, physically at least.

Another choking sob confirmed that as Peter started to become dead weight in May's arms.

"I tried, I didn't- I wanted to but I was just so angry and he-"

"Peter!" May almost yelled struggling to continuing standing as her nephew began sinking towards the floor, threatening to topple her over. Her nephew didn't stop or notice the predicament he had put them in, his hug continued to be unbreakable as his knees ceased to work.

"I couldn't stop it. I wanted to hurt him and then I, I jus- couldn't stop and…"

"Peter you have to help me." May ordered, using the last of her strength to maintain her balance and keep her and her nephew from collapsing onto the floor. Peter's iron hold on her loosened immediately and May had to grab at his arms in order to halt his descent as he fell like a lead lined rag doll towards the ground.

Struggling with his weight May, with a great deal of effort, managed to prevent Peter's head from banging against his bedroom floor. Only when she was certain that he was now lying on the flat surface did she release his arms.

Then having exerted herself May slowly lowered herself onto Peter's bedroom floor. She had plenty of nightmares where Peter had never come home to her and she had experienced many a time when her nephew had come home, broken and bleeding but this? This was something new.

He'd always managed to make a joke, give her a smile or at least try and put on a brave face as she did her best to help him recover but now…

Something terrible had happened and May was almost too afraid to ask.

Almost.

"Peter?" She whispered into the darkness. A small animalistic wail is what she got in response. Unable to call upon the energy needed to stand; May instead crawled on her hands and knees towards her nephew. He was curled into a ball close to his bed letting his tears fall free as more sniffs and sobs escaped him.

The damn was nearing its breaking point.

Sitting beside him, placing her back against his bed May threw her arms around him and pulled Peter in close, he allowed her to do this and quickly held her tightly once again.

She had thousands of questions to ask him and right now she wanted nothing more than to hold him like this until all the pain vanished but there was a pressing issue on her mind and if she didn't have it answered then they would never know peace.

"Is the Green Goblin gone?" She asked.

Peter's head nodded furiously. "He's gone." He managed to say.

The damn broke.

With no wounds to clean and no stiches to apply May couldn't find a reason or the strength to move them both out of Peter's dark bedroom. So she sat there holding him until her nephew's tears had dried and he stopped clinging to her like she was the last life jacket on a sinking ship.

It may have been hours later when Peter's hold on her once again loosened.

"I'm sorry." He croaked.

May didn't dare ask what it was that Peter was apologising for, whatever the answer it would wait until morning. Giving him a short hug of acceptance she used his bed as an aid in standing up then slowly she moved across the dark bedroom floor. Opening the door she reached out into the dark and found the light switch for the hallway. Turning it on she got a clearer view of Peter and what this night had done to him, the young adult looked exhausted and not just physically.

Ben had said there are many trials in life that take many forms. May would wager that this had been Peter's greatest. Only time would tell if he had passed or not.

"Can I get you anything?" Peter shook his head slowly. "Get some rest sweetheart, that's what you need."

She waited in the doorway until Peter slowly rose up from the floor. The light from the hallway hit his black suit causing it to have a momentary glistening effect on the material, as if it were made of thousands of shiny sequins. May turned to leave but stopped. For a second the white spider logo on his suit seemed to stretch and grow over Peter's chest. Blinking May studied the white spider carefully but found it was the same as it had always been, a trick of the light, nothing more.

"Good night Peter." She said, leaving him to undress. Leaving his bedroom door slightly ajar May slowly travelled downstairs. The television was still on and already the news was hot on the topic of Mr. Osborn's death but it seemed everything was pure speculation mixed with the few facts Jameson had already reported on.

Curling up on the sofa, watching the news with unfocused eyes May knew that it she wasn't going to get much sleep tonight. The Goblin was gone Peter had said, but rather than bring her comfort May was now hit with fresh worries as thousands of questions that only Peter could answer racked her brain.

* * *

Thank you all for reading. If you have any feedback or ideas you want to share please leave a review.

To anyone wondering, yes, Peter does have the black suit but I have no plans to do Venom in this fic

Spider-man will be more in line with his regular self next chapter, but I want there to be some residing emotion from this night through out the fic.

I wanted May Parker to know as I feel like Peter really should be able to trust her and get over the idea she will worry. Like Peter everyone who does know worries about you regardless why not have your mother figure in the inner circle?


	2. New day, old problems

Norman Osborn was dead.

Peter had all the evidence he needed to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Osborn and the Goblin were gone forever.

He had stood next to Harry at his father's funeral, granting him a front row seat at Norman's open casket, allowing him to stare at the face of a monster as hundreds of people in attendance praised his life's work and spoke of him as a brilliant leader, an inspiring innovator and a loving friend and father. Oh how little they knew. Peter had watched as dirt was showed down upon that wooden box slowly burying it and Osborn's dark secrets forever.

And on that black night he had seen it, the mad gleam fade from the monster's eyes as he choked out one last terrible laugh. There was no denying it.

Norman Osborn was dead.

And still he haunted him.

Falling through the cool night air Spider-man couldn't help himself, he had tried to forget about it, to push it out of his mind and carry on with his life. Aunt May had told him the same thing and even those who didn't know he was Spider-man had caught on to the fact that something big had been eating away at him for the last three weeks and had tried to offer him support. But no matter what he did, Peter just couldn't block out that night, nor could he shake the feeling that despite Norman Osborn being dead and buried the nightmare wasn't over.

Stretching out his arm he fired a web line and began swinging.

The city was still quite, in the aftermath of the Green Goblin's rampage everyone from the Police, the crime families to even small time crooks had a reason to pause, reflect and rebuild.

Of course New York was a city of eight million people, so it was never going to be completely problem free and while there hadn't been any crazy chases through the city or a supervillain bank heist Spider-man still had plenty of opportunities to lend a hand. Although Peter couldn't help but think that a wild night chasing down Sandman might just be what the doctor ordered to help rid himself of this mental weight he carried.

Coming to the end of his swing, Spider-man fired another web line but this time he used his spider strength to pull himself towards his target, then as the momentum hit he let go and flew. Cutting through the air like a small blue and red missile the wall crawler shot over the rooftops of Manhattan and for a brief few seconds got to experience the incredible sensation of actually being able to fly.

Some people did yoga, others gardened and some just liked to rock out to angry sounding music to clear their heads but for Peter nothing could compare to web swinging. If he could ever find a way to make it safe for regular humans he could retire and sell it as the ultimate relaxant. The wind rushing against him, the beautiful view of the world from above and the incredible sense of weightlessness of it was beyond words.

Then as gravity started to take its hold on him, Spider-man angled himself downwards increasing the speed in which he fell. For anyone fortunate enough to catch the wall crawling hero in action they might have feared he was going to go splat as he rocketed towards the side of a large building.

But just when it appeared that the last second save wasn't coming, Spider-man aimed up with both arms and fired off two web lines at the highest point of the roof. Hitting his intended target the masked hero flipped himself around in mid-air, landing feet first against the brickwork. Then he began running up the side of the building as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Just as he reached the top Spider-man released the two web lines and leaped out into the night air once more.

He wasn't going anywhere in particular. He had no routes mapped out in his head, no areas he liked to visit more than others; Spider-man went everywhere and anywhere, helping wherever he could. Although these days the people of New York were a little more wary around him thanks to articles published by the Daily Globe and Bugle following what happened with Osborn.

They didn't have any of the facts, but speculation and the lack of any other suspects quickly saw to it that he was made into the key player in Osborn's murder. And where they really wrong too?

Peter shook his head trying to get rid of the thought before it could take root.

He really needed to stop linking everything back to that guy.

Swinging hard around a corner at such velocity that the world briefly became a multi coloured blur Spider-man released the web line and once more got a taste at flight. He spotted them as he shot over their heads.

Craning his head back Peter only caught a glimpse of shadows due to the speed in which he was hurtling away from the building. Firing a short web line to stop himself, Spider-man quickly turned himself around and began swinging back the way he had come.

Spying the tallest building in the neighbourhood, he quickly scaled it and crouched down on the rooftop and began to study his discovery.

The target was one of those brand new apartment complexes that were being built all across the city by some out of town friend of Norman Osbo- Peter scolded himself for once again allowing that man to take stage in his head.

They were fancy stuff according to Mary Jane's little synopsis of them, a variety of spacious apartments coming in all sizes equipped with all the best features. But the fun didn't stop there; the building contained everything a wealthy tenant might need, a personal gym, a spa and even some sporting facilities. If they didn't charge more per month than Peter made in a year he might have been tempted to have a little peek inside.

It was the perfect place to stay for the rich and powerful and a beacon for thieves.

There were six of them in total, each trying their hardest to be completely inconspicuous while ticking every box on the suspicious character checklist. They were all wearing dark colours, they all had their hoods up or were wearing balaclavas and they moved cautiously, constantly checking over their shoulders for anyone watching them from one of the neighbouring buildings windows.

Oh and one of them was twirling what appeared to be a large crowbar.

Definitely not the night crew all taking a group smoke break.

Alpha, armed with the crowbar, set to work on the rooftop hatch. Beta got his back with one hand shoved deep into his hoodie's single pocket at the front. Peter had enough experience to know that someone was carrying a nasty surprise.

Gamma, Delta, Epsilon and Zeta, each carrying a large duffle bag over the shoulders, spread themselves out over the rooftop acting as lookouts, but despite being native criminals to New York their eyes were aimed downwards towards the streets or at the buildings surrounding them. None of them thought to look up and scan the city skylines for any heroes in bright costumes.

Taking a few more seconds to make sure he wasn't missing any important details Spider-man quickly got to work.

His first target was Zeta, who at this moment was watching a patrol car slowly make its way down the block. Knowing his attention was elsewhere, Peter attached a strong web anchor to the rooftop he was sitting on, then weaving a line for himself he silently stepped off the roof. Hanging upside down Spider-man slowly lowered himself down the tall building until he was only a floor or so above the opposing rooftop with the gang of criminals.

Knowing he would only get one shot at this, Peter waited, watching as Beta was quickly getting nervous.

"Come on." He hissed looking away from the rest of the group, his hand never leaving his pocket, and turned to Alpha who was still going at the hatch door with his crowbar. "What's taking so long?"

"The trick is to be quiet and not lead a load of evidence. Just let me work."

Beta did a double take. "Evidence? We're doing a smash and grab here, we don't have time to worry about all that."

"A few minutes more." Alpha promised.

"Hey, what's taking so long?" Epsilon asked, moving from his lookout position and began walking towards the duo near the hatch. The rest of the group seeing the huddle that was being formed dropped their tasks and began to move in thinking it was time.

Only Zeta remained his eyes never leaving the police car until it had vanished out of sight, but before he had a chance to turn around and join up with the others a small glob of webbing struck him right on the mouth.

The sensation of being hit by a small and sticky object traveling at quite the speed was enough to cause Zeta to yelp, except the noise he made was almost completely muffled by the webbing coating his mouth. A second later two powerful web lines latched onto Zeta's jacket then the man was pulled with inhuman strength clean from the rooftop, his muted screams going unheard by his fellows.

Catching Zeta with ease, Spider-man emptied the last of his web cartridges by wrapping the lookout in a tough cocoon, then attaching him to the web line he'd anchored onto the rooftop Peter left Zeta to dangle.

"I'll be back in a minute." He promised the wide eyed man who had gone bright red as he continued to try and scream at his predicament. "Try not to wriggle around too much or you might…" Peter ended this sentence by looking down at the eight story drop below them. Zeta followed his gaze and whimpered.

Then while he still had the element of surprise Spider-man pushed off from the building he was on and landed on the apartment complex where the gang was starting to get into a heated argument.

"Go and do your job!"

"All I wanna know is why is this taking so long, you said in and out."

"It will be five minutes more guys, just please let me concentrate."

"Five minutes to bust open a door? What the hell?"

"Keep it down!"

"No, I wanna know why we're painting a big target on our backs and just standing here while he messes around and-"

Spider-man watched the group of men argue back and forth and found himself wishing that he had the time, and resources, to build that web bomb he'd thought up last year. One shot and boom they would all be covered in heavy sticky webbing and would probably be all tied together in such a way that the moment one of them moved, the entire group would fall over and become stuck for anywhere up to an hour. He would definitely need to look into it next payday.

Replacing his spent web cartridges with fresh ones Peter looked up towards Zeta, he was still there, silently watching and trying his hardest not to move. Putting a finger up to his lips Spider-man silently crawled into a better position.

"If this takes any longer we're gonna have to go before we've even started."

"If we rush in we'll trigger an alarm."

"Man, this is a waste of my time."

"I'm almost; jus- just give me a few more minutes."

"Oh come on!"

Losing his patience Epsilon pushed past Beta and tried to wrestle the crowbar from Alpha's hands. The other members of the group tried to separate them causing any and all stealth to fly right out of the window when Epsilon threw a punch at Alpha who got caught under the chin.

Falling to the ground hard, Alpha let out a string of angry curses promoting Epsilon to try and go for him but was stopped by Gamma and Delta. In seconds the group was a mass of bodies, shouting and struggling limbs.

Clearing his throat Spider-man stepped out of the shadows. "Hey guys, did you lose your keys too?"

It might have been funny, if anyone had heard him over the struggling group members.

"You bastard!"

"You are gonna get us all caught you dense mothe-"

"Guys?" Spider-man asked stepping a little closer.

"Piss off!"

Glad that he no longer had to take picture of his heroics for the Bugle, Peter could imagine Jameson having a field day with the image of Spider-man being ignored by New York's common garden variety thieves.

Gamma, who had been holding tightly onto one of Epsilon's arms in an effort to restrain him felt something hit his back, a second later he was yanked away from the group brawl and landed four feet away. As the group turned to stare at the spectacle Gamma was stuck to the rooftop by several rapid fire globs of webbing.

"Hey guys, did you lose your ke-"

"Get him!" Beta roared and the group charged.

"Really?" Peter muttered before leaping into battle.

Delta, reached Spider-man first but the punch he threw, while fast, lacked any of the precision or power found in most of Peter Parker's rouges gallery, before the hooded thug's fist had a chance to land Delta had his legs taken out from under him by a sweeping kick by the wall crawling hero.

Half a second later and Spider-man rolled away to avoid a clumsy swing from Alpha and his crowbar. Springing to his feet New York's number one web swinger caught the crook once again under the chin but unlike Epsilon's hit this one was strong enough to put Alpha down for good.

A sharp tingling at the back of Peter's head alerted him to the danger from Beta; the man's hand was once again deep in his hoodie's pocket. Firing two shots of webbing Spider-man managed to pin the arm that was clutching the hidden gun to the man's chest. Following this up, Peter then shot a web line around Beta's legs and with a swift tug he had the man crashing onto his back.

Springing into the air Spider-man secured the man with several more shots of webbing removing him from the fight. All that was left now was a staggered Delta and Epsilon who was slowly moving away from the wall crawler and towards the fire escape.

"Help me." Delta pleaded, struggling to comprehend on how quickly the group had been taken down and how little a chance he had of escaping on his own.

Epsilon turned and ran.

In desperation Delta reached down and picked up Alpha's crowbar, then holding it above his head he slowly inched forward. "You stay away from me freak!"

Raising both his hands Peter tried to use his words. "I don't want to hurt you, but you need to put that down and come quietly okay?"

Delta darter forward then immediately backtracked, his eyes growing wide with fear. "I said stay away." He did a wild swing, hitting only air as he tried to circle around Spider-man.

Looking over his shoulder Peter learnt that Epsilon was now out of sight and probably moving with all speed towards the ground. Seeing this Delta ran forward with a war cry and swung the iron bar at Spider-man's head.

Peter's hand caught the crowbar before it landed and for a second Delta struggled with all the strength he could muster against Spider-man's singular arm and divided attention.

After a few seconds of failing to even budge Spider-man, Delta released the bar and simply tried to run past the masked hero. Dropping the criminal's tool Peter tackled Delta to the ground causing him to shriek in genuine horror.

"Please don't kill me." He wailed.

Pinning the man's arms behind his back, Peter secured them with a quick burst of webbing. Climbing off the struggling Delta Spider-man tried to fix what the local papers had ruined these past three weeks.

"Despite what you've heard I'm not a killer, but you're going to sit there quietly until the police show up okay?"

Delta didn't say anything instead he tried to rise onto his knees and continue his escape. Shaking his head, Spider-man webbed up his legs then bending his knee's he launched himself into the air after Epsilon, leaving Delta to flop around on the rooftop like a helpless fish.

The final would be thief had actually managed to climb down the entire fire escape and was slowly jogging out of the alleyway and towards the main street, his loud breathing alerted Spider-man to the fact that he wasn't going to surprising him with any sudden bursts of speed.

Landing a few feet behind the final gang member, Spider-man once again saw a fear he didn't like in Epsilon's eyes. This wasn't like before when criminals would treat him like an annoyance as he disrupted their hard day's work with webbing, jokes and inhuman agility. The criminal element had always hated him but now, now they were uncertain, causing them to become afraid.

They were actually starting to buy into the idea that Spider-man might have killed Norman Osborn.

"Can you please be a good boy and come quietly?" Epsilon looked towards the mouth of the alley then back to Spider-man. He knew he wasn't going to make it. With reluctant movements he raised his hands slowly above his head, took a step backwards and then reached for the bag he was carrying. "Nice and easy." Peter instructed.

"Okay." Epsilon nodded. Removing the bag's strap from over his shoulder he held it in front of him and slowly began to lower it to the ground.

The sharp tingling feeling returned and Spider-man moved on reflex, raising his arms he aimed, fired and hit Epsilon with one glob of webbing. The second shot had narrowly missed its target causing Peter to wince. That was embarrassing.

Not suffering from complete upper body immobility Epsilon staggered backwards away from the duffle bag and tried to steady himself while clutching something tight in his hand.

Peter was about to fire some more webbing when he caught the sight of the orange sphere and his mind flew back to the Green Goblin. For a second he froze, arguing with himself that what was being held in Epsilon's hand had no relation to the weapons used by his greatest enemy. But as Epsilon pulled back his arms, Peter's spider sense confirmed the truth.

It was a pumpkin bomb.

"Eat it freak." Epsilon yelled throwing the orange explosive. As the weapon left the man's hand it activated. The jack-o lantern face began to flash bright neon green as it sailed through the air.

Peter had seconds to think.

He could dodge the bomb easily, but an explosion in such a small alleyway could cause plenty of damage to both buildings. He had in the past, managed to catch pumpkin bombs with his webbing and hurl them away but in those situations Spider-man had primarily been fighting above the city, minimising any potential bystanders. As the only place he would have to throw it would be upwards there were a lot of apartments in that direction potentially filled with innocents.

And Peter was all too aware of the damage a stray pumpkin blast could do.

Time was running out.

Praying he had enough web fluid left to pull this off, Spider-man aimed both his arms and fired. The webbing hit the bomb mid-flight and thankfully didn't cause it to detonate. Standing his ground, Peter poured a continuing steam of the sticky substance over the bomb, quickly consuming it from view. But it wasn't enough. The bomb was almost upon him.

Leaping over the now web covered explosive; Spider-man dived towards Epsilon knocking him to the ground. Placing his hands over his head Peter waited.

Pumpkin bombs didn't explode with loud bangs; instead they screamed. It was unknown if this was by design, or a happy accident that the Goblin discovered when he first started creating his weapons. Either way despite hearing the sound to many times to count the cries would still rattle him.

The bomb detonated, its scream muffled by the layers of webbing surrounding it, but the cushion could only try and contain the blast, not stop it.

Looking behind him Spider-man was relieved to see that the alleyway didn't look terrible. The brickwork was scorched black, probably forever, and there was several concerning cracks defacing the walls, but at least the buildings hadn't gained massive holes in their sides and were at risk of collapsing.

He'd need to leave an anonymous tip with the property safety committee and have them give the two buildings a proper check-up, but all in all it could have been a lot worse.

Epsilon let out a moan as he tried to pick himself up from the ground. A short second later he was pulled to his feet and slammed hard against the alleyway wall.

"Where did you get that?" Peter yelled. The criminal didn't answer instead he reached for the wall crawlers hands and tried to pry them lose. Giving him a hard shake Spider-man tried to reign in his temper. It wasn't easy.

Pumpkin bombs were dangerous weapons in the hands of the Green Goblin who had the money and resources necessary to make a near infinite amount. Peter had hoped that once their master died the weapon would too. Now some common street thug had just pulled one out on him, was it just a fluke? A one in a million chance? Or could someone have found a Goblin weapon stash and had started selling old gear?

The thought of that chilled Peter more than any winter wind ever could.

Once more he tried. "Where did you get that pumpkin bomb?"

"Let go." Epsilon demanded giving Spider-man a weak push. The wall crawlers grip on the man's jacket only tightened and for a brief moment Peter thought about beating an answer out of him.

"The bomb, where did you get it?"

"I found it." Epsilon smirked, finding new confidence.

The approaching wail of sirens caused them both to pause, and then begin acting with haste. Epsilon gave a stronger push which failed to budge the wall crawler. He then once again tried to pry Peter's hands off him. Realising he didn't have long Spider-man needed answers quickly if he was planning to get any sleep for the foreseeable future.

Desperate times, desperate measures.

Ignoring how Epsilon was trying to dig his dirty nails into his wrists Spider-man took two steps backwards still holding onto the would be thief. He then threw him eight feet into the air. The shocked scream let Peter know that the second the police arrived they would be told by passers-by that the alleyway was their first port of call but Spider-man planned to be long gone before that happened.

Jumping up after the criminal, Peter snatched him out of the air, held on tight, landed then threw Epsilon up once again. This time he flew higher and screamed louder.

Spider-man caught him once again before he had a chance to hit the ground.

"Tell me where you got that bomb or next time I'm going to let you go splat!"

Praying the bluff would work, Peter squared his shoulder and bent his knee's as if preparing to throw again. The last of Epsilon's resistance broke.

"Okay, okay don't kill me please."

"The bomb." Peter almost shouted. The sirens were right on top of them now, and the flashing lights could be seen in the buildings across the street from the alleyway. He had second left.

"The Goblin sold it to me." Epsilon wailed, afraid for his life. "About three days ago, I'm sorry I didn't know it wo-"

Spider-man had no time to care what Epsilon did or didn't think a pumpkin bomb could do. Right now the world was falling out from under his feet and he didn't have a second more to spare.

"Hey it's Spider-man!" The first police officer yelled as he entered the alleyway's mouth.

Throwing Epsilon against the wall Peter fired three quick shots of web to ensure the police would have an easy arrest, and then he jumped from one wall to the other until he cleared the building and vanished out of sight while half a dozen officers raced into the alley.

Safe among the rooftops Peter didn't leave the crime scene until he was certain that all of the thieves had been bagged. The police would find Zeta, safe and secure sitting by the hood of one of their squad cars.

After that the wall crawler decided to call it a night.

Right now, no amount of web swinging was going to clear the cycle of thoughts occupying his head. Epsilon had said the Goblin had sold the pumpkin bomb to him three days ago.

But Norman Osborn had been dead for three weeks.

Had Epsilon lied? Unlikely, given his predicament.

But then what?

Was someone running around in a copycat getup selling weapons that they found?

What if this new Goblin tried to bring the Pumpkin heads back and follow in Osborn's footsteps?

The city had only just started healing from the last onslaught by the Goblin, it couldn't stand another.

Shaking his head, Spider-man put all these thoughts in the maybe draw. Right now it was all speculation, and he could simply be jumping to the worst possible conclusion. Hopefully in the morning things would be clearer.

One thing was for certain.

Whoever was selling pumpkin bombs couldn't be the real Green Goblin. Because Norman Osborn was dead.

Right?

* * *

Thank you all for reading. If you have any feedback or ideas you want to share please leave a review.

Decided to go with the Greek alphabet for labelling thugs. I will do do this again later on in the fic but they will not be the same guys.

For those wondering when Felicia will show up it's probably going to be around chapter 4 or 5 as once she's here she's going to stay front and centre so I want to set up a little more about where Peter is in his life, how things are, and what skeletons he's got in his closet before Black Cat comes along and starts changing things up, for better or for worse.


	3. Cold blooded bosses

Peter Parker slept like the dead.

No dreams, no nightmares, just the jarring experience of closing his eyes only to then open them five and a half hours later and to feel if only a few short seconds had passed. Despite his poor sleep cycle Peter felt fully rested thanks to his spider powers and was ready to take on whatever the day had planned for him.

Running down stairs he was rewarded with the smell of breakfast.

"Good morning Aunt May." He called, entering the kitchen.

"Morning sleepyhead." She replied, looking up from her crossword puzzle. Sitting down Peter began making himself a large bowl of cereal as he waited for the toaster to finish. "You've made the news again dear." Peter didn't react, instead continuing to pour the milk. "The reward went up."

"Oh?" Sealing the top on the milk bottle Peter waited for the reveal.

"Five million dollars."

The wall crawler whistled. "And to think Mr. Rickum said I'd never amount to a thing."

May shook her head; sadly this wasn't new for either of them. Now approaching his eighth year as Spider-man rewards and bounties for his arrest, capture and execution had come around like the seasons. Crime lords, celebrities and old Jameson himself had offered up good money for anyone who could bring in the wall crawler.

But none of them had ever been Harry Osborn.

"You should talk to him." May prompted.

Shovelling in several spoonfuls of cereal Peter tried his best to explain. "He won't listen, not to me, not to MJ. I think even Oscorp's lawyers tried to talk him out of it, nothing helps. Harry's set on doing this. All I can do now is wait it out."

"Harry's hurting and he has access to a lot of money. He could keep this up for a long time, increasing it whenever he sees fit and people are going to come after you dear." With no immediate response in mind, Peter continued to eat in silence. "Why doesn't Spider-man try talking to him?"

Peter almost swallowed the spoon in his hand. Harry and his father had never been close, but the way he'd discovered Norman's body, the way things had never been patched up between Goblin and son and that look of hurt and rage in his best friend's eyes when he had caught Spider-man trying to sneak out of the house…

No. Seeing Harry as Spider-man would be the worst possible decision in this scenario, it could antagonise his friend further; make him think that Spider-man was here to hurt him or perhaps steal evidence, which could lead to even more problems between them. It could even push the police to post their own warrant out for his arrest. No, Peter was just going to stick to what had worked in the past, continue living his life, defend himself when need be and hope that in time the poster of the reward will see things differently and take down their offer.

Harry would come around. Eventually.

The toaster popped and Peter quickly rose from his chair to place the burnt pieces of bread on a plate. As he did so he racked his brain for a fresh topic to discuss, one that had nothing to do with Spider-man.

"MJ says she and Harry are thinking about moving in together."

"You've told me this. Twice." Aunt May replied fully aware of what her nephew was doing. Peter sat down again and tried not to look at his aunt. "Peter…" The hero who had faced down living vampires, giants made of sand and more spider-slayer robots than he dared to count felt his flight response kicking in. "Why don't you tell Harry the truth?"

"I can't."

"About his father or about you?"

"Both." Peter looked down at his toast, wishing he didn't have to play secret keeper from those that meant so much to him. "If Harry knew what Norman was, who he really was. It would just destroy him. He's been acting as if his dad was better than he was, making excuses for all those times he wasn't there or when he would act like a dick- bad father." Peter paused and reached for the butter. "If I tell him that his father was a complete stranger to him. It could hurt him even more."

Aunt May sighed. "His father was a monster, keeping the truth from him doesn't change that fact. But it might stop him from trying to hurt you Peter, his friend. I know this isn't easy for you, but Norman Osborn is gone, you're still here and if Harry doesn't see things differently then he could start walking down a dark road, by protecting him from his father, you might see Harry become like him."

"That won't happen." Peter snapped aware of the truth planted in his aunt's words. How many good men had he known who's demons had slowly consumed them, twisting them into monsters beyond recognition. Could Harry really become like Doctor Octavius or Michael Morbius?

Finishing off his breakfast in silence Peter put his used plate and bowl into the sink. "I've got to get going Aunt May. And I'm sorry."

Accepting the conversation was at an end May Parker nodded and reached out for Peter. Embracing her in a hug Peter felt her hand rub the back of his head. "Try to be careful out there."

"I will Aunt May." Peter promised, knowing that on the way to work, he was likely going to have to deal with a line half a mile long full of people eager to cash in that reward money.

* * *

Doctor Curt Connors wasn't having a good day but that wasn't really anything new. It had been a long time since he'd been able to wake up without a crippling sense of self-loathing and regret. Unlike some trapped in a downward spiral, Curt could pinpoint the exact moment, right down to the second, where his life had changed forever, and it was for the worst. There was no blaming others, there would be no finger pointing at innocents, Curt knew that it was his fault, and his alone, that things had turned out this way. But as time continued on, and as that fateful moment continued to grow more and more distant the good doctor kept being surprised at how his life would forever be ruled by that one decision.

"I am sorry Curt, but those are the facts." Miles Warren, Professor and supervisor for the Empire state university labs said in a voice that sounded anything but sorry. "If you want me to continue supporting your research then you are going to need to be realistic and make some cuts."

Doctor Connors looked around his spacious laboratory. It was the crown jewel of the ESU science division, for years he had worked diligently here, earning him the respect and praise not just of his colleagues but of medical and scientific minds all across the globe. For a time he had been touted as the pride of university, the man who could change the world.

And then he had gone and ruined everything with that serum.

"Let's start with the obvious cuts. Staff." Miles continued; looking around at the several lab assistants who were all currently working hard, while simultaneously listening in to the conversation with quickening hearts. "Mr. Parker appears absent once again. A perfect example of dead weight wouldn't you agree?"

"No." Connors shook his head. "I believe that Peter is an asset to this lab that we cannot afford to lose."

"Lose? Curt he is barley ever on time and when he is, he leaves early or cuts his days in half. Why cling onto him?"

Curt had heard these arguments before from many sources and sadly they were filled with truths. It was difficult to express his desires to keep Peter around without revealing his own dark little secret and the hand Peter had in saving him. But by hearing these points many times, Doctor Connors knew how to counter them, somewhat.

"Peter has a brilliant mind. He's able to do his work load in almost half the time it takes anyone else, he is well versed in all three classes of science and has put his knowledge and skills to use here in many of my projects. He is creative, a true out of the box thinker. To lose him would require me to look for several replacements, which would only hamper my budget."

"If, Mr. Parker is so brilliant than can you explain why he is…" Miles Warren checked his wrist watch. "Forty eight minutes late?"

Doctor Connors had always lacked an answer for this type of question. He had some theories but had long since given up seeking an actual reason. It wasn't his place to pry into the life of the man he owed so much to. "Perhaps we could talk about equipment cuts?" He prompted.

"Actually it was your current projects I want to discuss next. My suggestion would be to drop one immediately and allow another interested party to take over."

Curt felt himself pale at the suggestion. "I can't- I couldn't, both are so important to me and my work."

Miles Warren's emotionless face twisted itself into a small snake like smile. "I think we both know that you cannot hope to keep both now Curt. Let us be realistic."

* * *

Peter had begun to notice his nonchalant attitude towards being late. It wasn't as if he meant to be, or that he didn't care about Doctor Connors or his work, it's just that it had happened so many times that Peter could no longer feel himself worry about it the same way he once did.

Was his life going to be forever filled with missed appointments and late arrivals? Should he just accept his life as Spider-man would always come first and never commit to anything? And just how many times had he had this exact same mental conversation?

Running through the hallways towards Doctor Connors lab, Peter knew that it was impossible for him to just slip in and start working as if he wasn't late once again, so instead he tried to buff out his latest excuse.

He'd got caught up in traffic.

Not completely untrue. Although what most people would assume when they heard that excuse was that Peter simply got trapped in a gridlock situation while riding a taxi to work. Not that he had prevented an out of control truck from crashing into the side of a bus. Or that less than two minutes later, when he had once again began swinging towards Doctor Connors lab another disturbance had stopped him in his tracks.

Pushing open the laboratory door Peter saw that Doctor Connors was in a deep conversation with Professor Warren and decided to explain his absence later and quickly headed over to his work station, ignoring the glances and shaking heads of his colleagues. He'd just pulled out his work stool when a voice called out to him.

"Mr. Parker." Turning, Peter watched the ESU supervisor, followed by Doctor Connors approach him. Neither wore happy expressions on their faces. Peter guessed it was too much to ask that they hadn't noticed him come in. "Care to explain why you are almost an hour late?"

"I'm sorry Doctor Connors I got caught up in traffic and-"

"You are no doubt aware by now Mr. Parker that the mobile telephone has been invented; care to explain why a simple call to forewarn did not cross your 'brilliant' mind?"

Doctor Connors winced but Peter never broke his gaze from Miles Warren's face. The man wasn't as outraged as he was putting on, he had simply bore a grudge against Peter since day one and seemed all too happy to take every opportunity to try and hassle him. Unfortunately for Professor Warren, Peter has spent five years working at the Daily Bugle and despite all his practised speeches and cutting comments; Miles Warren was just a small bang snap compared to the full nuclear verbal storm that Jameson was capable of producing at the drop of a hat.

"I forgot my cell at home."

"Well then Mr. Parker you mig-"

"Peter." Doctor Connors interrupted stepping out from Warren's shadow. "Why don't you start checking the data from tests eight through fifteen and begin uploading the results. I want copies on both the main drive and the back up." Turning to the ESU supervisor Connors held his single arm out in invitation. "Why don't we continue this in my office?"

Throwing Peter a brief glare, Miles Warren and Doctor Connors left him to his work and disappeared into Curt's office. With the door being closed behind them the entertainment was now over and the lab assistants continued with their own assignments without distraction.

Peter began looking over the data.

Right now Doctor Connors had two ongoing projects, the first he was treating as his possible redemption, a bold and risky idea but one that would benefit the entire city if successful. To strip the supervillain Electro of his powers.

For years Electro had terrorised the city and despite being defeated by Spider-man half a dozen times no prison, not even the Raft was capable of holding him for long. As time passed he only grew stronger, his abilities growing and developing at a frightening rate, allowing each return to be more chaotic and destructive than the last. One day, it was quite possible that Maxwell Dillon would become unstoppable.

But, if Doctor Connors was right, it was possible that they might be able to reverse the transformation and rid both Peter Parker and New York of a terrible enemy. And if that project proved successful, it could be that one day; Doctor Connors could remove all of the Raft's most dangerous criminal's abilities.

Of course things were still at the early stages and they had yet to fully map Electro's body and fully understand just how the accident had transformed a regular human into a living lightning generator.

The second project was a continuation of the regeneration serum that Doctor Connor's had first started work on seven years prior. This time however he and his lab assistants were looking at other animals to use as a basis such as starfish, sea cucumbers and even spiders. So far, not a single lizard big or small had been brought in to study.

Checking, then rechecking the results of each of the tests his colleagues had performed Peter was kept busy for well over an hour. Just as he had finished uploading the results onto the lab's server the laboratory staff ceased working as the door to Doctor Connors' office opened and Miles Warren stepped out.

Leaving the laboratory without a word everyone stared at the door as it closed behind him, and then they waited for Doctor Connors to emerge. After five minutes of inactivity, Peter made sure that he had successfully backed everything up, climbed off his stool and headed towards Curt's office.

Knocking on the door, Peter opened it slightly and poked his head inside. Sitting in his chair, staring down at the floor with empty eyes, the good doctor looked drained. "Doctor Connors?"

Looking up, Peter saw a flash of confusion pass over Curt's face. Then it was gone. "Peter? Is everything going okay?"

Slipping into the office Peter closed the door behind him. "Yeah, all the tests are finished and backed up like you wanted." Curt nodded but it was done in such a way that for a second Peter felt as if he hadn't actually heard him. "Doctor Connors is everything alright?"

"No." Curt replied after a long pause. "Things are actually going pretty badly for me."

"Did Professor Warren give you a hard time about me being late again?"

Curt's chuckle was hollow. "If only that were the problem."

"Doctor Connors?"

Rising from his chair the good doctor moved across the office and locked the door. Breathing in heavily, as if preparing for a great dive off a tall platform, Curt turned to Peter. "What I am about to tell you is strictly confidential. I know I can trust you, I- I owe you and your friend Spider-man so much."

"He's not really my- I mean go on."

Hesitating, Connors once more checked that the office door was secure then moved away from it. "Warren is squeezing me Peter. He wants to take control of the Electro project."

"Why?"

"I don't know. We've yet to make any significant progress for him to want to take it and yet for the last three weeks he's been asking constantly to overlook our findings and be brought on as a administrator and now…"

"Now he just wants to take it for himself?" Curt nodded. "He can't do that Doctor Connors this is your work, your research."

"Unfortunately Peter Miles Warren may be able to do whatever he wants with my work."

Finding Curt's fear of being overheard contagious Peter also moved away from the office door and got closer to his friend and mentor. "What do you mean?"

"I'm in the red Peter. Funding for my research has almost dried up ever since I-, ever since I cancelled the lizard regeneration serum."

"So Professor Warren is preventing more funding from the ESU?"

"No, I-" Curt stopped and brought his hand to cover the side of his head. Turning around in a circle Doctor Connor's tried taking deep breaths to calm the emotional turmoil bubbling within. "I have already borrowed too much from the University, most of it went to covering up what happened with the- with the incident and without producing any results the board cannot give me anymore grants, it's just the rules. But Warren, he says he's been trying to help me, offering me smaller loans to help get things back on track, of course in my predicament I could hardly refuse but now he's trying to- he's going to take it all from me."

"Calm down Doc." Peter soothed trying to ease Curt into his seat. For a minute the office was silent apart from the ragged breathing of Connors.

Regaining control Curt rested his hand on Peter shoulder. "Thank you, I'm sorry you had to see me like this."

"It's not your fault Doctor Connors."

"Oh but it is. That's the problem. I've destroyed my career and now Miles Warren is free to help himself to the remains. I'm finished"

"No." Peter shook his head. "It's not over yet Doc, we can still fix this."

"How?" Curt asked, his voice already dripping with defeat. "Without a generous donation I'm not going to be able to keep funding my research, or keep any of you on. It's over Peter."

"We can get you some new sponsors or look for new grants, get things back on track. I checked the test results for the regeneration serum. It shows promise; we can start getting interest from there. Please don't give up Doctor Connors." Peter pleaded.

Curt didn't say anything. Instead he looked around his office wearily. The weight of all the bad days was starting to bury him.

"We're not finished yet." Peter tried again, hoping that his words might bring a fresh spark of life back into Connors dying embers. But Curt remained seated eyes cast down.

* * *

For five hours Peter threw himself into his work without distraction. He checked results, aided the other assistants and backed up every bit of work they accomplished onto the server. They emailed the Raft and began negotiating another date to run some more tests on Electro. He even tolerated Debra Whitman's snide remarks about his tardiness as he tried to assist her with the regeneration serum. The small team worked hard, even without the guidance of Doctor Connors. But science is often slow, and no matter how hard each individual worked, no great leaps of progress were made.

Eventually Debra called time for a break and the appreciative assistants filed out of the laboratory.

Making his way up to the university rooftop, Peter leaned against the safety rail and stared out into the city. He tried not to think about it, assuring himself that he was allowed to miss the signs due to the number of distractions his life as Spider-man provided. But still Peter could not block out the sense of guilt. Doctor Connors was in trouble, big trouble and he needed to help him, the only problem, was how? A refreshing breeze tickled his face and his body began to feel stiff and heavy. He was on a break; a little bit of web swinging could clear his head and allow him to stretch his muscles. But the problem with that line of thought is that once he started, he might not be able to come back.

His mind began warring with itself.

Spider-man needed to find out more about who had sold that pumpkin bomb, start an investigation and talk to those who might have heard about the 'new' Goblin dealing in weapons. Find out if it really was just a wild coincidence, some one off relic sold by an old member of the pumpkin heads or the start of something else.

Peter Parker needed to stay at the ESU and help his friend.

Doctor Connors was suffering, racked by guilt at what had happened so many months ago with the Lizard. Peter had naively hoped that once the cure had cleared his system that Curt would heal inside and thing would be back to the way they once were.

Now he knew differently.

Peter couldn't blame Doctor Connors for wanting to give up. He knew the feeling all too well, but he also refused to abandon the man, he had seen how this pathway had ended before with Doctor Octavius, once a brilliant scientist and an idol to Peter, now one of the most dangerous criminals on Earth.

If Curt felt hopeless, he might do something stupid. Or dangerous.

Peter couldn't abandon him to his demons.

Moving away from the rail, Peter made his decision, he would look into the pumpkin bomb seller later, right now his place was here.

He had managed to take only a single step towards the stairway doors when his phone began ringing. Removing it from his pocket Peter read the name on the caller ID. Harry. The wall crawling hero didn't like the sense of worry he felt when he saw his oldest friend's name. Trying to tell himself it was nothing, Peter answered the call.

"Hey buddy." Harry's warm voice almost made Peter forget all of his problems and worries with just a simple greeting. It took him back to a time when things had been simpler and more easy going. "I was hoping I would catch you. But please tell me you're not picking up in the middle of work."

"I'm on a break."

"Oh so you actually showed up today, guess MJ owes me five bucks."

Peter laughed, it felt right to; somehow his constant tardiness became a joke when it was his friends pointing it out. "What's up?"

"I wanted to talk to someone about this whole reward thing. Clear the air. I know you used to take pictures of the guy for the Bugle but you're my best friend and I could really use your help right now."

Peter's heart skipped a beat. Dread and anticipation were front and centre in his mind, followed by a small spark of hope. Maybe all of Aunt May's worrying was going to be for nothing. Maybe his previous talks with Harry had actually had made a difference. Or perhaps he was just being naïve.

"Sure, I'm here for you."

"Great." Harry let out a sigh of relief. "So you know what it's like to lose someone and not have all the answers right?"

The conversation had taken a sudden left and Peter was for a moment lost. "Yeah…"

"Well wouldn't you be willing to give up almost anything just to get clarity?"

"I guess so."

"See, that's what I want. Mary Jane said that I'm hunting him down for revenge but I don't want him killed. My reward clearly says alive and… All I want is just to be able to talk to the guy, know why he was there that night, maybe he didn't murder my dad maybe MJ is right that perhaps something else happened and he was just trying to bring him home, but that just leaves me with even more questions right?"

"Right." Peter managed to say as he stared up helplessly into the sky. Why did the universe just keep throwing problems his way?

"So you get why I'm doing this? I don't want to murder Spider-man or you know do some revenge ritual; I just need some answers, if he did do it, well then that's the police's job to deal with. But I can't just keep waking up and listening to myself go around and around in a circle with questions I cannot answer."

"I know the feeling."

"I know Pete. And I know I've already asked you this, and it has been a long time since you last took his picture but please, is there any way of contacting him? A cell phone number, a restaurant that he likes to hangs out at?"

"We were never that close Harry. Sorry, but uh, who knows maybe Spider-man might come and see you himself?" Peter wanted to bite off his own tongue as he said that.

"Really? I mean I hoped the first time I posted the reward that he would come straight away and we could, you know just talk it out."

"The first reward was a little angry sounding."

"Yeah. I guess it was. I am sorry for that but, you know."

"I understand." Peter said, knowing full well that when Harry had first posted a reward it was from a place of pain. But now things actually sounded better, if Harry was calmer and hungry for answers then maybe, with some manipulation of the truth, he could give him a story that might put his mind at ease and allow both Spider-man and his best friend to move on with their lives.

Aunt May wouldn't approve of such lying but it could just be what they both needed.

"Thank you for this Pete. I mean it, MJ and I, we can't even talk about this without things going ugly and… just thanks for listening."

"Anytime, and Harry I know it's hard but please don't let this be the only thing on your mind."

"I won't. Now I better let you get back to work, we'll talk soon. Seya around buddy."

Returning the phone to his pocket Peter headed back towards the lab with new determination. He hadn't always been able to accomplish all that he set out to do when it came to the people in his life, being Spider-man meant that he lived a double life with multiple responsibilities, but that didn't mean he was going to stop trying.

He had people he cared about that needed him. Even if he wasn't able to do everything, he could still do his best to support them in the here and now, while still helping the people of New York as Spider-man.

It was just going to be a case of balance. Three problems, three solutions.

Now, which one to tackle first?

* * *

At a hole in the wall bar, several patrons were wasting their afternoons by loudly discussing what they would do with a million dollars, the bartender having heard this type of talk thousands of times paid them little heed as their voices grew and their wallets emptied.

"If I had a million dollars you know what I would go do?" The youngest of them said.

"Buy yourself a pair?"

A roar of laughter followed the cheap joke, causing the original speaker to flush a dark red. "No I w-would go to one of them guys, you know the uh modif- modi-" The youngest of the group had stammered once too often and once again was subjected to a round of laughter.

Moving away from the group the bartender saw that the glass of one of his more quiet patrons was near empty.

"Top up?" He asked. The quiet man lifted his head. "Oh it's you."

"Yes it is." Herman Schultz aka the Shocker replied, giving the bartender a less than friendly stare.

"How has things been for you?" The bartender asked, refilling the drink and trying not to make direct eye contact with the supervillain.

Last thing he had heard the Shocker had once again been tossed into prison, making him the laughing stock of the New York underworld as another defeat was added to his embarrassing record, but that was months ago and now suddenly here he was, out and about.

"Great. Really great actually." Herman answered without a hint of sarcasm. "In fact my career has never been so smooth."

"Is that so?" The bartender asked, afraid that he had now walked himself into a dangerous conversation that would only end in violence. While the Shocker used a fancy suit and a pair of shockwave generating gauntlets to commit crimes, Herman Schultz wasn't quite as fun to laugh at when he was sitting within arm reach of you wearing a nasty scowl.

"Yeah, you see the funny thing about my line of work is you'd think that with more competition there would be less to go around right?"

"Right." The bartender agreed blindly.

"But it couldn't be more wrong. That freak in the elf get up? He caused all sorts of chaos, hitting banks, busting up docks and targeting some big names, and you know what?"

"What?" The bartender asked, wondering if he could manage to slip away under the lie of needing to replenish someone else's drink.

"It got everybody's attention. The cops, Spider-man, the whole city was gunning for that guy, which meant nobody cared about little old me."

"That's too bad."

"Are you kidding me? It was great!" The Shocker took a long swing of his drink. "The moment that freak showed up, I knew that is where everyone was gonna be right? Then I just had to hit somewhere else, no cops, no Spider-man, no hassle it was easy money and I made a fortune off it."

For a second the bartender needed to pause and give Shocker some credit. That was a good idea, for a time the Green Goblin had been the biggest name on the news, everyone was talking about him, but to actually use the guy as a smokescreen for one's own crimes was pretty genius. And so far, Shocker was the only one who had actually talked about doing it.

"But wait the Goblin is gone now; doesn't that mean your crime spree is over?"

"Nope. In fact you might say it's just getting started, see I made a lot these past few weeks, enough to pay the Tinkerer a little visit."

"Whose that- Oh right. He's the guy who…"

"Makes all the shiny toys, yes." Shocker continued. "And I've put a lot of money down for some upgrades."

Another howl of laughter escaped the group, causing the bartender to jump. Flinching at his own weakness he tried to cover it up by continuing the conversation. "Upgrades you say?"

"Yep, brand new suit and everything. The works. That is what I spent my million dollars on." Shocker grinned before taking another swing of his drink.

Managing to take a couple of baby steps away from the supervillain the bartender was stopped when Herman Schultz stood up with such force that for a second that the bartender feared for his life.

"Turn that up." He barked, pointing at the television sitting in the corner, playing a newscast. Without question the bartender raced towards it and made the voice of James Jonah Jameson drown out all other chatter.

"Now folks while you probably remember the countless times I have called that wall crawling menace a worthless addition to our society."

"Hey turn it down!" A member of the loud group yelled.

"Quiet." Growled Shocker, remaining standing, his eyes glued to the screen.

"Well I couldn't have been more wrong, as of today Spider-man is now worth five million dollars to one Harry Osborn, son of the late Norman Osborn, former CEO of Oscorp. Now while this news may not take many of you by surprise it does have me wondering will this increase mean anything? After all, others have tried placing a bounty out for Spider-man and nothing has ever come of it. How far will Osborn go? Will this time be any different? I have my doubts. But for any of you at home interested in taking a swing at this bounty, I must remind you that Harry Osborn has repeatedly stated that he wants Spider-man alive and talking. This station does not condone citizens taking the law into their own hand."

"Well, well what do you know?" Shocker turned to look at the bartender. "Looks like I'm gonna have fun testing out my new gear."

"You're going to fight Spider-man, again?" A squeak of laughter escaped the bartended.

Shocker's jaw tightened, picking up his drinking glass he finished the contents, then tossed it up into the air, caught it, then hurled it like a professional pitcher straight at the television. Both the screen and the glass shattered covering the bar floor into thousands of tiny pieces of glass before the ruined box came crashing down off the wall.

"Thanks for the drink." He growled walking out the bar door.

* * *

Thank you all for reading. If you have any feedback or ideas you want to share please leave a review.

I want to give a big thank you to those that did review it means a lot to me and helps keep me energized to write this story. Thank you.

So I've piled on Peter's problems and got a lot more covered than I hoped in this chapter meaning I feel the stage is now set for a Black cat to appear. One thing I love about Felicia is how she can tangle with Spider-man's enemies so expect her to recognize quite a few of his rogues gallery when they show up. First up is the Shocker although I did name drop more than a few in this chapter.


	4. Here Kitty, kitty

**This is a bit of a long one compared to previous chapters.**

* * *

Deep in thought, Spider-Man swung through the city on autopilot. Problems, problems everywhere and he alone could solve them. Past experience had taught Peter Parker that when he tried to do too much on his own, little was accomplished and everyone felt let down. This time he needed to choose his battles carefully, guaranteeing that he could put all his time and resources, however limited, into solving one problem before he began on another.

Of course, with this mentality Spider-Man was now having to choose which of his current dilemmas was more important than the others.

Doctor Connors had been a good friend and mentor to Peter for years. Time after time when he had needed help or advice as either one of his dual identities, Curt had always pulled through for him, risking his job, his reputation and more all in the name of the greater good. Shame filled the web swinger as he realised just how blind he had been to the doc's suffering, along with a touch of anger as he thought about how Miles Warren was trying to exploit the situation.

Some might argue that this was the least important problem to start with, but Peter couldn't let Doctor Connors down, even if he believed that there was no hope, the wall crawling hero thought otherwise.

The ESU had entire databases filled with the names of those who had donated to projects and faculty members in the past. Most of whom had probably been introduced to Doctor Connors during the countless award ceremonies and scientific demonstrations that had been hosted over the years. So finding a few wealthy backers who cared about the safety of New York and its people or wanted to see a breakthrough in medicine, a possible solution to all physical disabilities should be relatively easy.

A few quick calls, a couple of emails and Doctor Connors could get back to work free from the worries that plagued his mind.

First thing tomorrow morning, Peter was going to the ESU records department, sit down and comprise a long list of names of potential funders. He could make first contact with more than half of them before Doctor Connors even set foot in the building. Smiling under his mask Peter knew he was getting ahead of himself but in the moment it didn't matter. He was going to make things right and help a friend and mentor all without having to punch something.

Slipping into the assurance that his first problem was already half taken care of Peter looked towards the next. To find the pumpkin bomb seller.

A bit more challenging, but Spider-Man had done his fair share of tracking down elusive criminals and when it came to selling things, be it weapons, drugs or stolen goods no matter how secretive the seller tried to make it, word was always going to get around to the right people. Someone had to know something about this new Goblin, and Peter had a pretty good idea on where to start asking questions.

Once he had a good lead, Peter could quickly put a stop to this, before it had a chance to become another city wide nightmare. But until he could made contact with those who had enough of a good conscience to tell him what they might have heard Spider-Man looked towards his third and final problem.

Talking to Harry.

Mentally scolding himself for planting the seed in Harry's head that Spider-Man could just show up out of the blue and have a nice conversation about why his father had died, Peter tried to figure out the best approach to this hypothetical chat that could end up shattering his best friend's world.

While he had lived the double life for so long now, lying to the people he loved never got any easier and a talk with Harry about that night, about Norman, could be the most complex web of lies he had ever spun. Everything would need to be water tight, every word he spoke needed to match up in Harry's head with what he already knew or thought he knew. As Peter Parker he had a unique insight into his friend's reasoning. But that didn't guarantee him anything.

One slip up, just one. And it could all blow up in his face. It could happen as they were having the talk; it could be months later, maybe even years but if Harry ever stumbled upon even the slightest clue that Spider-Man had lied to his face about his father, about the closure he so desperately wanted.

Peter didn't want to imagine what that could mean for his best friend. And what new problems it could cause for them both.

It was wrong what he was thinking of doing; Peter understood that all too well. But he also believed that Harry deserved better than to have to experience the truth of what his father really was. Being labelled the son of a monster, seeing all those high definition videos of the Goblin's crimes and knowing that beneath that grinning mask was his own flesh and blood could break Harry. Peter Parker was going to have to lie and it wasn't going to be easy for him, but it was for the greater good. Once he'd done this his best friend could move on with his life and start living it again. Being Spider-Man often meant taking the hard knocks of life meant for other people. He'd done it plenty of times in the past; one more dark secret to keep wasn't going to kill him.

The low hiss of his right web shooter running empty brought Spider-Man out of his head. Surprised at how late it had gotten since he had first started his patrol, the wall crawler aimed with his left arm and fired a web hook at a nearby building, yanking himself towards his target, he landed on all fours on the glass windows and began to refill his web shooters.

The city was still quiet and after finally coming to a decision on how he was going to tackle his problems Peter really didn't want to be trapped again in his own head space, to doubt and second guess the order in which he had decided. Maybe, he thought as he slipped his near empty web cartridges into the utility belt he kept under his costume, he should head home and turn in early.

Early to bed, early to rise. And that fresh start would mean he could make quick work of sorting through those wealthy donor files in order to help Doctor Connors.

Waiting a few seconds to see if a sudden eruption of gunfire or distant explosion might put an end to his plans, Spider-Man pushed off against the building and began swinging towards home satisfied that he had his game plan for the next few days.

He hadn't even completed his third full swing before a chorus of sirens reached his ears. Turning his head, Spider-Man watched as three police cars, a fire engine followed by two ambulances raced through an intersection.

"Duty calls." Peter sighed, changing his direction and began to chase after the speeding emergency vehicles. "Sorry bed."

* * *

Welcome home Felicia.

Turning the greetings card over, eyeing it with fading interest the platinum haired woman eventually let it slip from her hand where it joined the small pile of similar well-wishing but ultimately meaningless messages.

How she hated this ritual.

Sitting cross-legged on her bed, Felicia Hardy was attending to the wave of emails, hand written letters and greetings cards that always badgered her whenever she returned home from a trip.

Almost half of them were from admires, mostly men, to whom she had barley spoken two words and yet seemed to think that now that she had returned home that they could suddenly pick up from where they had last left off, writing about how eager they were to see her again and wondering if she would be attending the next big city do. With the other half Felicia sensed her mother's hand was involved. Cards and emails from the biggest beneficiaries of the Hardy Foundation, welcoming her back to New York and asking when they could get together to discuss her trip couldn't have come across as any more bare faced. Her mother might as well have co-signed the messages, demanding that they speak in person soon. Something Felicia was going to gladly keep avoiding.

Closing her laptop and ignoring the rest of the post she had yet to open, Felicia Hardy uncrossed her legs and fell back on her bed. She would need to finish reading all the junk sooner or later, a big part of maintaining her secret identity was to ensure that everyone who crossed her path thought she was their personification of perfection and could do no wrong, which did mean remembering every cheap greeting from someone she met once every seven or eight months.

Right now there was only two things she really wanted to receive, one was a rare, but always treasured message from her father, Walter Hardy aka The Cat, but it would appear her father wasn't aware that she had returned home or perhaps wasn't able to send anything meaningful to his daughter, not realising that a single word from him, letting her know that he was still alive meant more to her than the library filling junk she had received in the last forty three hours since returning to New York.

The second of her desires was also proving to be a disappointment. A visit from her ex. Felicia had hoped that he would be waiting for her when she got home, perched on her balcony. Perhaps with a half-baked lecture on how he would no longer be able to ignore her crimes and demanding that she turn over a new leaf or give her another of his sentimental speeches about great power and responsibilities, all the while she would tease him, watching his resolve break with the smallest of movements and gestures, until he could take it no longer and gave her a proper welcome home.

But Spider had been a no show. Then after her little welcome home crime spree she had waited again, lying awake amongst her stolen prizes and still there had been no sign of New York's web slinging hero. If she didn't know any better Felicia might have suspected that he was avoiding her. And she couldn't have that.

Rolling over Felicia reached under her bed and quickly found the modified police scanner she had purchased from the Tinkerer. Unlike the outdated toy Peter kept on his desk, this would allow the listener to tune in to all emergency service calls throughout the city, keeping her apprised of any little developments that might ruin a planned heist or midnight prowl over the rooftops.

Turning it on, she quickly filtered through the usual chatter, seeking out something a little more exciting. So far her welcome back celebration had lacked the element of danger and Felicia wanted a thrill if she was to truly enjoy her spoils from last night's heist. Twisting the scanner's dial she began to listen.

"Small fire on-"

Nope.

"-potential break in at cookie factory at china tow-"

Once again Felicia played with the scanner's dial.

"Attention all units we have a possible six-one-six at old Oscorp chemical plant in Hell's Kitchen. Emergency vehicles are on route and requesting backup."

Bingo.

Leaving her fancy toy on the bed, Felicia raced towards her walk in closet grinning like a Cheshire cat. Inside were all the wondrous and fashionable outfits one would expect the wealthy heiress of an international science cooperation to have, but hidden behind all the silk blouses, party dresses and snug sweaters was a secret panel that housed the most important of Felicia Hardy's outfits.

Changing quickly, Felicia Hardy emerged from her closet dressed in a form hugging black leather catsuit. Moving towards her full length mirror she began to tie her long platinum hair back into a pony tail while she listened for any more details her scanner could give.

A six-one-six was code for Supervillains and there was nothing that got the blood pumping quite as much as tangling with the multitude of freaks, mutants and mad scientists that seemed to be drawn to New York. And where there were supervillains there was Spider-Man. Finished with her hair, Felicia moved towards one of her chest of draws, opened it and pulled out the Mayor's tiger headed sapphire pendant, one of many prizes she had stolen the previous night.

Slipping the piece of jewellery into a small black pouch on her belt, Felicia turned back to the mirror and added the final touch, her mask. Perfect.

Every one of her horny little welcome backers would kill for the honour of seeing her like this.

Turning off her bedroom lights Felicia Hardy stepped out onto her apartment balcony and then sprang onto the concrete safety railing where she squatted, looking out over the city. There really was no place quite like New York.

Flexing her gloved fingers, Felicia heard the click of her grappling hook announce it was ready to be fired. Standing up slowly she stretched both her arms out to either side of her and then leaning forward she swan dived off her balcony.

Falling and loving every second of it, the Black Cat waited until the last second to fire her grappling hook and prevent herself from becoming a messy stain on the sidewalk. Aiming for a nearby building, the three clawed gadget dug in deep and with a rush of momentum her trajectory changed and the Black Cat was soaring above the heads of hundreds of New Yorkers. Swinging through the air, the platinum haired woman grinned as she headed towards Hell's Kitchen hoping that all the excitement wouldn't be over with before she made her big entrance.

Welcome back Felicia.

* * *

The old Oscorp chemical plant, an aged and cracking set of buildings that had been abandoned and left to rot quietly since the late eighties, and until recently had been doing just that. But then the Bugle had taken a shot at the plant, calling it an affront to the city and its people when Oscorp hadn't cleaned up their mess and taken care of the closed plant when they had gone and built their new one. Forced into action the company's board quickly announced that the property would soon be demolished and that the land would be put to better use, promising that exciting things would soon be revealed.

And while there had been a constant construction crew presence on site following the announcement, little appeared to have been accomplished and the two dozen officers racing out of their squad cars was probably the most activity the place had seen in a decade.

Releasing his web line Spider-Man fell through the air and landed on the side of one of the crumbling smokestacks.

The police were quickly setting up a perimeter around the largest of the buildings with weapons drawn and using their vehicles as cover, while the other emergency service workers were engaging those few night workers who had been on site when, whatever it was, happened.

Spider-Man hated being in the dark. He added, create mask with inbuilt police scanner onto his ever growing list of wishful upgrades he could never hope to afford and began searching the crowd for a familiar face, preferably belonging to one who wouldn't be tempted to shoot at him and try and claim that reward. He could just waltz into the main building and see what was happening, but how many times had that resulted in some new villain of the week getting the drop on him with some scary new ability or fancy piece of tech?

Spider-Man eventually found a face he knew, but kept searching, hoping against all hope that perhaps one of the more friendlier officers of New York might arrive on the scene. After fifty three seconds of silently hoping without result, the wall crawler cursed and jumped towards Sergeant Keep.

Keep was a tough, no nonsense cop who radiated mean energy even on the happiest day of his life. Peter had first met him after a lengthy punch up with Scorpion in the subway. Where most of the first responders had been more than happy to let Spider-Man walk and arrest the arachnid with a criminal record, Keep had wanted to bag them both and had thrown himself at Peter with a earth shaking war cry.

Of course with his spider-sense, enhanced speed and agility Keep had only embarrassed himself and hit the ground empty handed. Many would simply have called it a loss and taken care of the Scorpion while Peter went on his merry way. Not Keep.

Again and again they repeated this little dance. It would have been funny if Keep hadn't been so determined to catch him. Actually it had been funny, which had caused Peter to laugh, which had only added more fuel to burn at Keep's fiery determination

Never before, or since, had a police officer so tirelessly chased Spider-Man through the subway tunnels of New York.

Keep wasn't a Spider-Man fan. But he also wasn't corrupt nor trigger happy. And while he would never be pleased to see the wall crawler, he was one of a handful of police officers capable of putting that hatred aside and work towards the common good when the situation called for it. Peter just hoped tonight's incident was one of those times.

Spider-Man landed behind the sergeant who was kneeling behind his squad car door. Taking a second to purge any humour from his system, he cleared his throat.

The police officer's hand went to his gun, and Peter reacted accordingly preparing to start firing webbing at the man. But Keep's hand only rested on the weapon and he never drew it as he turned to face Spider-Man.

If looks could kill, New York's crime rate would fall drastically in record time. As would the general population.

"What seems to be the problem officer?" Spider-Man said, trying his hardest not to sound as if he was poking fun. Keep kept on glaring.

A shout broke out among the police ranks and within seconds several officers had broken from the perimeter and were racing towards Spider-Man with weapons drawn. Peter's spider-sense let him know that they weren't here for an autograph and he was about to web swing out of there when Sergeant Keep began barking out orders.

"Get back in position! Eyes towards the building."

The police officers stood uncertain, eyeing Spider-Man with the same look that so many did whenever a big reward came about. But Keep's crowd winning smile quickly put the thoughts of money out of their heads and the officers quickly slinked back into position.

"Thanks, I appri-"

"Take care of your buddy and then get the hell out of my sight." Keep growled.

"Will do." Spider-Man nodded and took a wide step around Keep and another towards the main building. He then stopped and turned back to the glaring cop. "Which of my 'buddies' is this again?"

"Schultz."

Spider-Man groaned and began marching towards the main building; Keep quickly fell into step beside him. "I thought he was in jail."

"Well he isn't anymore."

Mentally scratching his head, Peter tried to come up with a reason as to why the Shocker, professional bank robber and armoured car thief would suddenly come to an abandoned chemical plant. "Is there anything left inside that's valuable?"

Keep shook his head. "The foreman told us he walked right in, started smashing the place up and took a couple of hostages, as far as he knows everything in there is three decades out of date, Oscorp took the good stuff years ago."

Spider-Man nodded, ignoring how he was now the centre of attention as he and Keep walked through the perimeter line. Hostages weren't Shocker's usual MO, normally he was a smash and grab man, preferring not to stick around and drag a situation out.

Which meant that he was now playing a brand new kind of game, one that Spider-Man was unfamiliar with.

Stopping twenty feet from the large double doors of the main building Spider-Man looked at Keep's glaring features. "I'll find the hostages first and send them out, after that I'll handle Shocker. Wanna wish me good luck?"

"Just catch your pyjama wearing pal and then get lost. I have more important things to be getting on with tonight." With that Sergeant Keep began walking back towards the perimeter line.

"You and me both." Peter muttered. Leaping into the air, he fired a web line and swung into action.

Crashing through one of the second floor windows, Spider-Man landed on the safety rail of an overhanging catwalk and took in the situation.

With the sheer amount of time and technological breakthroughs that had happened since the chemical plant was last in use Oscorp had no choice but to scrap most of the outdated machinery and hardware with little hope of gaining a profit. This action now left the large work floor barren aside from the odd lingering piece of junk that had yet to be thrown into a skip.

With the right features it would make a great place to host a rave or stage an ambush.

And Peter could clearly see the bait.

Slumped against the far wall were a pair of orange and silver jumpsuit wearing men, next to them was a door that Peter assumed would lead further into the building. There was no sign of any yellow padded suit wearing criminals.

Silently moving along the catwalk rail, Spider-Man ignored all that he could see and began looking for what he couldn't. Shocker wasn't going into the hostage taking business, but Peter could easily see Herman grabbing a couple of innocents and using them to lure him in, especially now that he was worth five million dollars. Shaking his head, Spider-Man hoped that the dozen or so other supervillains he had fought over the years wouldn't come up with similar schemes.

Stopping, Spider-Man was now almost directly over the two workmen, and still hadn't felt even the slightest tingle of his spider-sense.

Shocker had to be setting up a trap, which would mean he would want to be able to see his bait, and yet Peter hadn't a clue on where he could be hiding in a bare bones work floor.

"This is either a clever trick, or I'm just being an idiot." Peter muttered as he attached a web anchor to the rail and began to slowly lower himself down towards the workmen. Every two seconds during his descent Spider-Man expected to hear the hum of Shocker's gauntlets powering up, before the roar of an air vibrating blast struck him. Instead there was silence.

Which made Spider-Man all that more paranoid.

Placing one booted foot on the dusty concrete floor, he waited.

Spider-Man could have heard a pin drop in that room. All was quiet, the noise of the outside world seemed so distant and still his spider-sense did not alert him to danger.

Something was very wrong here.

Letting go of the web line, Spider-Man slowly walked towards the pair of hostages.

"Hey? Can you hear me?" He asked. Reaching out, Peter put his limited first aid training to use and began trying to revive the workers. After a nail biting minute Spider-Man saw that the first worker's eyes open a little. "Are you alright?"

"Urgh." Was the groan of reply as the man reached for the back of his head.

"Easy." Spider-Man said, still waiting for the surprise attack. "What's your name?"

"Bill." The worker replied and began to blink furiously. After a few seconds he regained his focus and looked directly at the wall crawler's mask, his eyes widening in recognition. "Hey you're Spider-Man!" Chuckling despite the situation, the wall crawler stood up and held out his hand, taking it Bill was pulled onto his feet. "What happened Spidey?"

"An angry pillow salesman dropped by. Nothing to worry about." Peter looked over his shoulder towards the twin doors just on the opposite side of the large open work floor and began planning his next move. "Now Bill I'm going to need your help."

The worker nodded enthusiastically. "Sure."

"I want you to carry your buddy here outside, there's going to be an ambulance out there waiting so you two can get properly checked up okay?"

"Okay." Bill said. "What are you going to be doing Spidey?"

"I'm going to be with you every step of the way, but the guy who did this is probably still here, so if anything happens I want you to promise me you won't try and help, just worry about him." Spider-Man pointed at the still unconscious worker. "And take him outside."

"Alright Spidey." Bill nodded once again with a little less enthusiasm than before.

This happened all too often and Peter hated it. People, good, kind, caring people wanting to stay and help. He appreciated the thought, he really did and couldn't imagine himself having the same level of courage it took to place oneself in danger like that if he hadn't gotten his powers, but Peter had seen what happened to those normal humans who stuck around.

They could get hurt, they could get scarred and they could be killed.

He appreciated the offer, but he couldn't let good people risk their lives for him.

With Bill's help they got the unconscious worker to his feet and while Spider-Man held him steady, Bill slipped his arm under his colleagues far shoulder and began to half drag half carry him towards the exit. "Come on buddy. We're clocking out early."

Walking alongside the pair, offering support whenever it was needed, Spider-Man waited for it. If Bill and his friend were the bait then surely that trap was about to spring.

If Peter picked up the unconscious worker now and ran for the door he could get the fellow out and into the arms of a first responder in less than thirty seconds. But if Shocker did reveal himself then, and decided then to take a shot, or use some other kind of surprise then an innocent man's life would rest quite literally in his hands.

Bill continued walking on, straining his neck as he too tried to spot the hidden danger. Spider-Man had to give credit to Shocker, he really had upped his game, he couldn't remember the last time he had treated the bank robber with this much caution. Not that he would openly admit it and give Herman the satisfaction.

It was when they had reached the halfway point across the empty work floor that Peter felt that dreaded tingle at the back of his head.

He paused and in the split second he had before the threat was upon him he tried to anticipate its origin point. He didn't hear the hum of the gauntlets charging up, he didn't see Shocker emerge from the shadows, for all intents and purpose there was no danger. But Peter knew better, and trusted the sixth sense granted to him.

Without giving Bill even a seconds warning he pushed the worker and his unconscious friend far out of harm's way. The entire building then trembled as from behind the door, next to where the two workers had been placed, came a roaring blast of vibrating air that tore through the factory like thunder.

Spider-Man didn't even get the chance to groan as he was caught by the blast and sent hurtling across the building.

Crashing onto the concrete floor, every bone in Spider-Man's body started to vibrate. For a second he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, his entire body was numb as it tried to deal with the damage dealt to him. Then the pain came and Peter sucked in a lungful of air before finding the strength to let out an "ouch."

"Hey there bug." Shocker called as he stepped through the large hole that had once been a doorway and began to casually stroll across the work floor. His vibrating gantlets kept the storm of dust he had kicked up with that first attack from landing on his fancy new suit.

Spider-Man forced himself to sit up, ignoring the way his bones continued to dance beneath his skin. "You know, I'm starting to think you and the other guys aren't receiving my email memos."

A series of coughing from his right caused Peter to turn his head and watch as Bill began to pick himself up from the dust, and move towards his fallen colleague. Neither looked like they had been caught up in the attack. Thank heavens.

If Peter's bones felt like they were doing the Macarena, what would that blast have done to a regular human?

"Memos bug?" Shocker scoffed, lazily tapping at the control panel on his right gauntlet. "Would that be the one begging me not to come collect your sorry hide? Because I think it went straight to my junk file."

Spider-Man shook his head, pressing his palms flat on the ground; meanwhile Shocker ceased walking and pointed both his gauntlets straight at him. "No, it's the one about classification."

Launching himself off the ground using only the strength in his arms, Spider-Man flew six feet from the floor catching Shocker off guard. Firing of dual web lines at the criminal's boots, he yanked the webbing hard, throwing Shocker off balance.

Before he could crash onto the floor, Spider-Man twisted his hips while still in mid fall and dragged Shocker off the ground and into the air. With a yell born from desperation and the way his bones hated being used after taking such a hit, Spider-Man spun in a full circle and then released the webbing, throwing Shocker back across the factory floor "Spiders are not bugs." He yelled after the criminal.

Landing on the ground, Peter winched as he felt an aftershock ripple through him. "Are you alright?"

Turning, Spider-Man saw that the second worker had awoken during all the excitement and was now staring at the wall crawler with both amazement and concern.

"I'm fine." He lied. "Get out of here."

Bill and his colleague looked as if they were about to argue, but quickly saw reason when the loud hum of Shocker's gauntlets caught their attention.

"Let's dance bug." The criminal yelled and began to launch a series of rapid fire blasts at Spider-Man.

While lacking the power of a charged dual shot, a single vibrating air blast could still hurt and right now Peter really didn't need to take any further damage until his teeth stopped rattling.

With speed and agility, Spider-Man began to hop, duck, leap and roll away from the blasts, all while closing the gap between hero and villain.

"So when I say Spiders aren't bugs what do you hear?" Spider-Man began. Shocker didn't respond, instead pumping his arms furiously as he tried to fire more and more shots at the taunting wall crawler. "Because I kind of can't help but think you're just not paying attention to me Herman, and you know what?" Spider-Man ducked under a shot that came close to clipping his right shoulder. "That kind of hurts my feelings."

"I'm gonna hurt a lot more than that when I'm done with you."

"Wait!" Spider-Man yelled and for a second Shocker paused in his assault. "The reward said alive and talking. I mean I hope that's what this is all about, otherwise I have concerns."

"Alive I can do." Shocker agreed and then fired a single vibrating beam at where Spider-Man had been less than a second before. "But talking? The rich kid will thank me for your broken jaw."

"Ouch." Spider-Man said with feigned hurt.

Moving backwards as he fired, Shocker tried to keep the distance between them, but Spider-Man was moving too quickly and with every passing second he felt a little better and could move a little faster. Soon the wall crawler was becoming impossible to predict and even the Tinkerer's fancy aiming feature inside of Herman's mask wasn't able to keep up.

Shocker however had other tricks up his sleeves.

Ceasing his blasts, he tapped a small button on the inside of his gauntlets with his left pinkie and his weapons began to vibrate furiously. Charging forward the brown and yellow costumed criminal threw a punch right at Spider-Man's head.

Peter could feel the vibrations pulsing through the air towards him as he dodged the blow. Following through Shocker aimed a quick kick which Spider-Man caught and used to shove the criminal backwards. Regaining his footing almost instantly, Shocker threw a round punch once more at the wall crawler's head.

Jumping clean over the attack and Shocker, Spider-Man landed behind the criminal, pulled back his arm and threw his own punch and caught Shocker right on the side of his masked face.

Thanks to the design of Shocker's suit Spider-Man's super human strength was somewhat negated, as the padding that prevented Herman's bones from becoming dust every time he used his gauntlets made for an excellent cushion against blunt force impacts.

But Shocker wasn't invulnerable, and still staggered backwards from the hit. Throwing a wild punch in retaliation, Spider-Man ducked under it and knocked the criminal into the air. Not giving his enemy a chance to recover, Peter fired a web line at him and then swung him over his shoulder, driving Shocker into the concrete floor.

"I meant to compliment the new look Herman, what is that? Padding? More padding? Outrageous!" Spider-Man joked as Shocker picked himself up.

"You really don't wanna be trash talking costumes bug."

"Ah, ah, ah. There's that word again."

"Especially since you've gone back to your old threads." Shocker continued, ignoring Spider-Man's quip.

"I like the red and blue. Makes me more appealing to a wider market."

"I preferred the black look." Shocker shrugged before he began firing off more air vibrating blasts at the wall crawler.

* * *

Crouching on a nearby building overlooking Oscorp's crumbling relic Black Cat was pleased to discover that the party was still going strong. The dozens of flashing sirens and strong police presence didn't faze the cat burglar in the least as she quickly deduced where the action was taking place.

Like most incidents involving super villains the boys in blue were reduced to crowd control, and right now they were busy holding back a large gathering of curious people who were blocking off the main entrance into the chemical plant.

Firing her grappling hook, Black Cat swung towards the largest of the buildings. Landing silently on the rooftop, unnoticed be either spectating civilian or disgruntled police officer, Felicia raced towards the rust infected door leading inside, secured by a single padlock

Popping her feline claws, Black Cat simply sliced through the obstruction and then gave the ailing door a hard kick. It yielded without a fight, falling off its hinges and landing with a crash.

Before it had time to properly settle, Black Cat had entered the building.

Navigating through the empty corridors, past abandoned offices and locked storerooms, Black Cat kept her wits sharp as she strayed deeper into the unknown.

Her little scanner hadn't revealed who she might have the pleasure of tangling with tonight, but having clashed with several of Spider-Man's costumed enemies and coming out on top with or without the wall crawler's assistance, Felicia Hardy felt confident in her chances.

Unless it was Sandman or that Mr. Negative.

One was near invulnerable and the other was downright freaky, neither had been that fun to fight, even with Peter's help.

The distant roar of Shocker's gauntlets caused Felicia to instinctively duck. When she had first teamed up with Spider-Man, trying to give the whole hero thing a try, she had encountered the bank robber several times and with each battle he had become less of a threat and more of a bonding exercise for her and Peter. Oh what fun they had at Shocker's expense. Still, she had quickly learnt that while the man's reputation was laughable, his tech wasn't.

Quickly navigating through the rest of the building's upper floor, Felicia raced out onto a catwalk just in time to watch her favourite dance partner leap clean over a blast from Shocker. Delighted at the serendipity of the situation, Black Cat leaned on the rail and watched the final round play out

"Come on Herman, how many times have we done this? Fifteen? Sixteen times?" Spider-Man quipped as Shocker tried to keep track of the fast talking hero. "You've never beaten me, so why don't we call it quits and I can go home and you can go back to jail. Again."

"Shut up bug." Shocker fired a duel gauntlet blast, which the wall crawler lazily avoided.

"Again with the bug!" Spider-Man yelled. "But really have you even thought this through?"

Spider-Man fired a web line at Shocker and then yanked himself forward booting the criminal in his masked face. "Oscorp's going to be calling the police before you've even managed to walk through their lobby, how are you seeing this work out for you buddy?"

Rolling backward with the hit, Shocker smoothly regained his footing and threw a wild punch that never came close to landing. "I said shut up!"

"Because I see this ending the way it always does." Spider-Man stated. Blocking the desperate attack from Shocker, the wall crawler got in close and delivered three rapid fire blows to Herman's face.

Stunned Shocker could do nothing but groan as he was lightly pushed backwards and fell to the ground with a crash, throwing up a small cloud of dust. Deciding that the fight was now over, Spider-Man hit his enemy with a dozen shots of web fluid that quickly secured the criminal's body to the ground.

Unsurprised by the outcome, Black Cat prepared to make her move. While she would have enjoyed the thrill of knocking Shocker around for a bit, the game of chase that she could enact with Peter would be far more enjoyable. Reaching for her belt, she smiled as she felt the Mayor's treasure still safe within her pouch.

"Well Shocker, it's been fun wish we didn't have to do this but we did and now I'm going hom-"

Black Cat raised a single eyebrow behind her mask as Shocker began struggling against the webbing, grunting and twisting as far as the sticky prison would allow. It appeared a final futile gesture but then there was a whine of energy, followed by a build-up of noise that shook the entire building and the webbing exploded right off the criminal.

Leaping back in surprise, Spider-Man watched as Shocker picked himself up once more. "That's new." Peter admitted.

"Good news bug, you're not going to the rich boy."

"Yeah?" Spider-Man said, as Felicia began to wonder who it was Shocker was referring to.

"Yeah. I'll just take your hide elsewhere." With a fresh wave of anger fuelling him, Shocker let lose a new barrage of blasts at Spider-Man, who began to dodge and weave through them once again. "See I tried to be nice."

"This is you being nice?" Spider-Man laughed, as a shot narrowly missed him. "I'd hate to see you angr-urgh!"

Scoring a hit on the wall crawler, Shocker advanced slowly, firing at the hero with extreme prejudice. "There are plenty of people who would pay for your corpse. Silvermane, Hammerhead,-"

"That old man who lives next door, Jameson, my ex." Peter listed as he began leaping like a mad frog left and right, never staying still for more than a second so that Shocker's shots began going wild, striking everything but Spider-Man.

Having spectated enough, Black Cat climbed over the railing and dropped down. Shocker never saw her coming but even through his padded mask he felt her booted foot as it was driven into the top of his skull.

Falling forward and reaching for his head, Shocker's legs were taken out from under him by Felicia, leaving him for the fifth time that evening lying on the ground getting dirt over his brand new suit.

"Hey Spider." Black Cat waved watching with delight as the eyes on the hero's mask widened in surprise.

"Cat?" Peter whispered.

"Bitch." Shocker growled.

Taking her eyes off the wall crawler Black Cat wasted no time in curling her fingers into a fist and delivering a jaw breaking punch to the side of Shocker's head.

The padding saved Herman's mouth but the criminal's ego was in tatters. Even his rage towards Spider-Man couldn't blind him to the fact that for all his hard earned money spent on upgrades the outcome of this fight was likely to be the same as it ever was. And now with Black Cat joining in, Shocker decided that it was time to exit stage left, and try again on a more favourable day.

Herman turned and ran towards the hole in the wall he had created, where he planned to lose the two inside the building and then make a break for the city.

He never got that far.

Landing a kick in the centre of the criminal's back Black Cat cheered enthusiastically as Shocker stumbled mid run. A second later and Spider-Man had leapt clean over him and was now blocking his exit.

Shocker raised his gauntlets to fire, but Spider-Man was already moving and the criminal found himself in a situation he was all too familiar with.

Black and white. Red and Blue. Black and white. Red and blue.

Turning his head one way and then the other Shocker could only catch glimpses of the two costume wearing vigilantes as they moved around him with acrobatic grace and speed that the professional bank robber simply lacked. Unable to keep track of both of them Shocker had little choice but to fire wildly, hoping his single gauntlet blasts would tag one of the weaving blurs.

Then the hits began to land. A light tap on his shoulder, Shocker would turn ready to blast the offender only for the back of his legs to be kicked. Falling on one knee, he'd twist around only to get blindsided by a punch. Again and again Spider-Man and Black Cat would dart in with perfect coordination, striking a blind spot and then leave the criminal's line of sight before he could even gather his bearings.

In a situation such as this, Shocker's padded suit only delayed the inevitable. But what made it worse, was the back and forth that always accompanied such a procedure.

"Score!" Black Cat cheered ramming her shoulder into Shocker's back. Stumbling forward, Herman could only watch as Spider-Man slid on the ground towards him and then sent him flying into the air with an uppercut. "Don't let him touch the ground." Felicia challenged, leaping up after the criminal.

"You drop him and you lose." Peter said following her up, much to Black Cat's delight. For a few humiliating seconds Shocker was knocked from one to the other, unable to do anything but yell in frustration and terror as he was treated like a ball in a game of catch.

Wishing he hadn't risen to Black Cat's bait, it was the wall crawler who let Shocker fall, sending him back to earth with a strong overhead blow. Landing hard on the concrete floor, Herman let out a whimpering "Ow."

"Alright Herman, time to call it quits." Spider-Man advised, hoping he wasn't about to waste another batch of web fluid on the criminal.

Without resisting, Shocker remained still as he was once again secured to the floor. Taking a few seconds more than necessary to add the final touches, Peter tried to reign in his thoughts and feelings as he turned to look at Black Cat.

"I win." She whispered in a teasing manner and his self-control was almost thrown out the window.

He wanted to be mad at her; he wanted to be in charge for once and actually say his peace and get it out of his system. But what he really wanted to do, what Peter Parker was now actively forcing himself not to, was play along.

"What are you doing here Cat?" He managed to say, realising it sounded less like an accusation and more like he was lost and confused. An excellent start.

"Is that how you welcome back all your old friends?" She asked, tilting her head to one side in a mocking pout as she began to slowly circle him.

"Wha- when did you get back?"

"Better." Felicia nodded. "Not too long ago, miss me?"

"A little."

"Only a little?"

"Well I've been busy." He answered truthfully, fidgeting like a school child under the constant watch of her emerald eyes.

An eye rolling groan from Shocker stopped her pacing as the professional bank robber strained his neck to stare at the pair. "Could you not do this bulls-"

Spider-Man fired a glob of webbing at Shocker's mask.

Firing off her grabbling hook, Black Cat soared up towards the catwalk with Spider-Man quickly following.

Squatting on the railing Spider-Man cleared his throat and began anew. "Cat we need to talk."

Peter remembered the last time he had this talk with her and how it had gone. He had meant to inspire her with the same moving words of wisdom that motivated him through even the toughest of times; he had wanted to let her know that being a thief isn't all that there was to Felicia Hardy. He had tried to tell her how amazing she was, not just at being a hero, but as a person and how in only a few short weeks, she had saved so many lives and done some real good with a sense of confidence that he still felt he lacked. He had meant to tell her how much he loved her, both as a partner, and as something more.

Of course what had actually happened had been rising tempers, raised voices and accusations that, while charged with mean spirited energy hadn't been completely untrue. The whole debacle had been a complete train wreck and had ended with Felicia declaring that she was leaving.

He had assumed she meant that she was leaving for the night and that their partnership and not totally official but sort of existed dating life was now on hold. That had been three and a half months ago.

Before the Green Goblin.

Before Osborn's madness had dragged him to depths that he never again wanted to visit.

Seeing her again, to fight alongside her, it brought back a lot of good memories. And despite the time spent apart Peter found that he was still able to connect with her in a way that was both exhilarating and frightening. But that was the honeyed poison of Black Cat. And Peter was determined not to be taken advantage of again.

"Cat I cannot ignore your crimes anymore." He started earning him an eye roll from Felicia. "I'm serious."

"Sure you are. It's all you ever try to be, has anyone ever told you how boring it is?"

"This has to stop."

"Keep saying it and it might come true." She continued to tease.

"Felicia." He whispered, hopping off the rail and taking a step towards her.

"Peter." She replied reducing the space between them to almost nothing.

Trying his hardest not to fall for her bait, he took a deep breath and started again. "Cat I cannot-"

She stopped him by lightly slapping his chest. "Enough lectures okay?"

"I'm trying to help."

Black Cat laughed. "And I don't need it. I'm happy the way I am."

"But it's- you're a thief Cat." Spider-Man tried to stress, getting the feeling this wasn't going anywhere fast. "I really care about you…"

"Awww." She reached out to pinch his masked cheek but Spider-Man caught her arm and held it.

"But I cannot ignore you stealing things behind my back."

"Then don't ignore it." She said, pulling her arm free. "It's way more fun when you chase me."

Doctor Connors. The new Goblin. Harry Osborn. These were his problems, now he could add Supervillain's chasing after him thanks to Harry's bounty on his head and Black Cat being back in town. For a moment Peter dared to wonder if the universe had anything else planned for him, but decided not to press his luck any further by asking.

"Felicia, I'm done chasing you." Spider-Man said, straightening his back and looking directly into her green eyes. "If you continue to steal then I will be forced to hand you over to the proper authorities."

Black Cat stood unflinching at the threat. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

She shrugged. "Fine, then I will have to do my best to try and not divulge any information about my little accomplice."

"I am not your accomplice."

"That's not what the Bugle was saying." She smiled sultry. "Or the Daily Globe."

"They've got a whole new angle on me now." Peter muttered. Turning away he began walking down the catwalk towards the broken window he had used to enter earlier. "I'm going to go tell the police it's all wrapped up in here, you should probably get going."

"Spider wait." She called after him but he kept walking.

"Seya." He waved without turning to look at her.

For a moment she considered letting him go. Something wasn't quite right with Peter, and she very much doubted it had anything to do with Shocker landing an extra hit or two on him tonight. He'd always wanted her to change her ways yes, but threatening to call the police on her was something so out of character that Felicia had been completely caught off guard. Only years of verbally sparring with members of the criminal underworld had prevented her from showing it to him. Watching Peter walk away, her mind was already piecing what limited information she had together, and coming to the obvious conclusion.

Shocker had mentioned a rich kid, and Herman never did anything that wouldn't line his pockets. Another bounty on Spider-Man's head?

More than likely.

But Peter had never been bothered by them before, he had a price on his head during the time they were working together, posted by Silvermane himself, and yet Spider-Man had treated it so nonchalantly you'd think it had been posted by a street corner mugger. If an international crime syndicate leader hadn't been able to shake the wall crawler what could be so different now?

If she returned home Felicia could quickly begin researching all that she had missed out on during her three month's absence. Cutting herself off from her home had seemed like a good idea at the time, no chance of being distracted while she was off travelling. But now she felt blind, something important could have happened to her home, to Peter, and she would be completely unaware.

Spider-Man had almost left when Black Cat's hand reached for her pouch. A part of her knew she was being selfish, that she was only going to wind him up, but she didn't listen to that informed side of herself. Felicia Hardy could do her homework on Peter and the city in the morning, right now, she was determined to have some fun, and god willing give Spider-Man a taste of it too.

Removing the mayor's tiger headed pendant from the pouch, Black Cat brought the stolen prize up to her neck and fastened the clasp. Letting the gleaming jewel fall against her chest, she brought her thumb and forefinger to her mouth and whistled loudly.

Snapping to attention Spider-Man starred at her in surprise.

"Goodnight." She said, bowing low so that the sapphire tiger pendant would dangle from around her neck, catching the light, and the eye.

"Cat? What's that?" Spider-Man asked, stepping towards her. Giving the wall crawler a few extra seconds to stare, she blew him a kiss, turned and began running back into the building's interior. "Cat!" He yelled after her.

Grinning brightly, Black Cat was pleased to hear the sound of his pursuing footsteps chasing after her.

* * *

Shocker waited patiently for his two costumed adversaries to leave.

His body hurt, his pride was ruined and he found himself once again consumed by violent thoughts of revenge against the wall crawler for adding another humiliating defeat to his record.

But as high and mighty as Spider-Man liked to act, he had made on fatal mistake tonight. The Shocker was new and improved and the stupid bug hadn't remembered that his infuriating webbing could no longer hold him.

Once his body stopped feeling so sore, he would rip these webs apart and walk away. Then he would go home and plot his revenge. For now, while the cautious police remained outside giving him precious time to recover, he remained still, silently cursing Spider-Man and the Black Cat.

* * *

Thank you all for reading. If you have any feedback or ideas you want to share please leave a review.

More Spider-Man and Black Cat in the next chapter, which will continue on immediately from this one.

Given how the fight with Shocker dominated a large portion of this chapter, I will give this fic some breathing room before the next fight.


	5. A Goblin revealed

Black Cat was starting to get concerned. Had Peter gotten faster?

It had been a long time since Felicia had last enjoyed a proper game of cat and mouse with the web slinger, reluctantly giving it up when she became his partner in crime fighting. Ever since she and Peter had first met it had been the bedrock of their relationship, she would lead and he would follow, despite his numerous protests declaring otherwise.

There had been close calls, too many to count, but no matter how determined Spider-Man had been, no matter what clever trap he planned or trick he played, he had never quite been able to catch Felicia red handed before. She had always managed to slip out of his grasp, allowing Black Cat to pride herself on being the one who got away, on more than one occasion.

But tonight Spider-Man was bringing his A-game to the table and the gap between them was closing far too quickly for Felicia's taste.

Black Cat loved the trill of the chase, but she loved to win more. He could have the mayor's jewel back, once she'd had her fun and put a grateful smile on Peter's face.

Approaching the end of the building she had been traversing, Felicia was pleased to discover that the large block of flats nearby still remained standing, despite the mayor promising to demolish them several months prior and replace them with more a modern and up to date building. Knowing the city like the back of her hand had allowed the cat burglar the edge in many of her chases and tonight was no different.

Swan diving off the current building, she fell through the air for a few short seconds before taking aim with her grappling hook.

"Cat." Spider-Man yelled after her, surprising Felicia for a second on how close he sounded, he had gotten faster. That, or he had been holding back in all those previous chases, and she refused to even consider the possibility that he had been going easy on her.

No, she had run Peter Parker ragged on his best day and that was that.

Her three clawed grappling hook struck the block of flats and with a whirl of tiny motors Black Cat was pulled towards it. Moving with the momentum of her powerful little gadget, Felicia flipped mid-air, pulled her hook free and landed on the block of flat's rooftop in a single move.

She had only managed to run half a dozen meters before she heard Spider-Man touchdown behind her.

Leaping over a ventilation duct, Black Cat saw Spider-Man's gloved hand reaching for her, missing her by the thinnest of margins.

Things were getting close. And she was loving every second of it.

Clearing two more of the rooftop obstacles with the grace and speed of an Olympic class athlete, Felicia was forced to slide under the third of the old ventilation ducts as Peter once more made a move to grab her.

Evading him once again, she rolled forward at the end of her slide and was back on her feet and running just as Spider-Man landed atop of the duct with a little more force than he usually displayed, denting the metal under his booted feet.

"That's enough Cat." He called after her, causing Black Cat to roll her emerald eyes. Like that had ever stopped her before.

A second later, Felicia silently cursed and jumped to one side as a glob of webbing struck where her booted feet had been less than a moment ago.

Turning back to the wall crawler with a look of scorn, Black Cat saw him freeze up, perhaps feeling guilty that he had resorted to the unspoken cheat of their chases so early into the game. But Peter's sour little mood must have eased his conscious because Spider-Man quickly took aim once more at Felicia Hardy.

"I said that's eno- come on, really?" He yelled as she once again turned and started running, this time making sure not to stay on a straight path for more than a few seconds. Following her as she leaped onto a new building, Peter wished he had a chance to replace his web cartridges before all this started.

Acting sparingly with his precious web fluid, Spider-Man only fired when he believed he had a clear shot, but as close as he came to tagging her with the sticky substance, Black Cat was always able to leap, duck or sidestep at the last second.

"Missed." She called over her shoulder in a sing song voice, hoping to turn Peter's frustration against him.

It worked, as several more shots of webbing were fired in her direction. Managing to avoid the majority of them with her acrobatic skills Black Cat waited until the last second to throw herself to one side and avoid the final glob of webbing meant to entangle her. Watching it fly harmlessly by she let out an exaggerated cheer and continued racing across the rooftops with Spider-Man not far behind.

"Missed again." Felicia Hardy called out over her shoulder, making sure to emphasise how much pleasure she received at Peter's little misstep.

It quickly becoming like old times. With the two of them racing across the rooftops of New York in the dead of night, a priceless jewel acting as the prize and with neither of them actually placing any real value on the object. In their games of cat and mouse it was the thrill of the chase that mattered, the adrenaline, the rush, and the life and death antics they got up too. And despite his protests and pleas for her to stop, Felicia was certain that Peter was starting to enjoy this just as much as her.

Throwing herself off the latest rooftop, Black Cat fired her grappling hook at a nearby building and swung through the air. While the sensation of flying hundreds of feet above the ground was intoxicating, the bitter truth that Felicia would never admit aloud was that for all the wonders her expensive gear was capable of, Peter's old web shooters still gave him the speed advantage and that she couldn't stay in the air long without risking him closing the gap.

Spying a series of close knit rooftops below, covered in forgotten rubbish and other signs of age and abandonment, Black Cat decided that she had strung Peter along long enough. It was time to find out what was really bugging him. Felicia flexed her gloved hand causing her grappling hook to immediately release its hold sending the platinum haired thief plummeting downwards.

How she had missed this.

At the time leaving New York had felt like the right thing to do, Felicia had needed the space. Getting away from Peter, her mother and from the city itself had been a blessing at first and allowed her to reflect on things without a constant distraction looming on the horizon.

But the heists she had committed away from home in order to keep her skills sharp had felt hollow, the prizes, while valuable, were taken all to easily and Felicia found the thefts were without real threat or excitement. After spending years in New York playing the roles of part time crime fighter and part time criminal and dealing with giant robots, mutants and all kinds of fancy gadgets and super weapons, the outside world had seemed tame and woefully unprepared for her.

Not everyone was fortunate enough to have a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man on hand to keep thing exciting.

Making no effort to slow her fall, Black Cat was quickly running out of time to save herself. In less than nine seconds she would be beyond help and would smack face first onto the dirty old concrete rooftop and become a fresh stain to add to the countless other grimy marks covering the building's surface.

She heard the familiar "thwip" of a web shooter being fired and despite the fast approaching building Black Cat had the utmost confidence in Spider-Man and his abilities.

She felt the webbing hit the back of her catsuit and a second later Peter crashed into her.

"I've got you." Spider-Man said, pulling her in close as the building's rooftop raced towards them both. Twisting his body in mid-air Peter held Black Cat in a bridal carry while he braced himself for what was to come.

Landing feet first, the wall crawling hero moved with the impact, bending his knee's before straightening his body out.

Shifting in Peter's arms in order to get a better look, Felicia could see that the concrete had cracked under the force of the landing. "Are you alright?" She whispered, staring up at his masked face.

"I think so." Spider-Man replied silently proud of himself that he hadn't cried out when he had hit the rooftop. Raising one foot off the cracked concrete the wall crawler was pleased to discover that the pain he felt was just that and that nothing in his leg appeared to be broken. Setting it back down again he looked at Felicia Hardy still cradled in his arms and the mayor's pendant sitting proudly around her neck.

"Cat I really don't have time for this tonight." Spider-Man stated reaching for the tiger headed jewel with the arm that had been supporting her back while keeping a supportive hold on Felicia's lower half.

"You always say that." Black Cat replied doing nothing to stop the wall crawler from searching for the pendant's clasp. "And yet you always have fun." She added leaning in closer so she could wrap her own arms around his neck, bringing her face closer to his masked one.

"You always have fun, I…"

"Try and pretend you don't have a good time." Black Cat finished, "Why are you like this?"

"Because I have better things to be doing than to chase you all over the city every night." Peter replied with a hint of frustration in his voice, try as he might he wasn't able to undo the clasp of the pendant and with each failed attempt he realised just how compromising of a position he was in.

There Black Cat was safe in his arms, getting closer and closer to him and instead of reading her the riot act or giving the mayor back her stolen jewel he was allowing himself to be sucked into another cat and mouse conversation with her, revealing the obvious result that Felicia Hardy would never change.

And he was a fool to keep believing otherwise.

"Need a hand?" Felicia offered reaching behind her neck towards the clasp of the tiger headed pendant.

"I've got it." Peter lied as her gloved fingers brushed his out of the way.

She undid the pendant's clasp and handed the piece of jewellery to Peter without a word.

"Thank you." He said taking it and wishing not for the first time that he had pockets.

"So what happens now?" She smiled.

"I'm taking this back." Spider-Man waved the pendant. "And you." He pulled away the arm that had been supporting Black Cat causing her to squeak in momentary surprise as she fell.

With the arms she had wrapped around Peter's neck Felicia prevented herself from falling butt first onto the cracked rooftop and instead dangled awkwardly off the wall crawler as her legs searched for solid ground. After a few seconds she managed to straighten herself out and throw the wall crawler a frosty glare.

Underneath that mask she suspected Peter Parker was grinning at his little stunt.

"Well I guess I'll be heading home then." She announced, removing her arms from around Peter's neck, never once breaking eye contact with him. "Care to join me?"

For the second time that night Spider-Man turned his back on her and began to walk away. "Bye Cat, try not to steal anything on the way back."

"Or you'll come chase me again?" She taunted, causing him to stop and turn to face her.

"No." Spider-Man answered. "I'll call the police. I meant what I said Felicia, I am not going to play your games anymore."

Crossing her arms under her breasts, Felicia's emerald eyes narrowed. Silently starring the wall crawler down the platinum haired thief met Peter's threat with her own unspoken one, if I'm going down Mr. Parker so can you.

Raising his right arm, Spider-Man continued their staring match. "Goodnight Cat." He said, firing a webline at a nearby building, the moment it landed he jumped almost twenty feet into the air and began to swing away.

Now alone on the rooftop, Felicia let out a pent up breath of frustration. The chase that had always played such a big part in their relationship had been anti-climactic, and rather than improve Peter's mood she had only soured her own. And that cold rejection? It had surprised her.

Staring at her titanium tipped claws the Black Cat considered pushing her luck and causing another scene just to see if Peter would actually back up his little threat.

But then the reality of the situation hit her and Black Cat knew she would get no enjoyment out of continuing to bug Spider-Man tonight, something had wound him up tight and right now fun and games weren't going to help him relax, or give her any real pleasure either.

"What happened to you Spider?" She muttered to herself.

* * *

Leaning back in his chair, Peter Parker began rubbing his eyes in frustration. The wall of text on the screen had started drifting again. This was not the fault of any programing error or glitching software but because once again the wall crawler felt his mind begin to flit away.

He really needed to take a break.

And he would. Once he was finished.

After returning the Mayor's pendant to her office, without the usual customary note from everyone's friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man explaining things, Peter had decided in his infinite wisdom to skip that night's sleep cycle and instead go straight to the ESU where he would begin tackling problem number one in his life.

Securing a personal study room near Doctor Connors's lab, Peter got to work, where over the course of several hours he had slowly typed up three separate emails, each one meant for a different group of investors.

The first would explain the new and improved regenerative serum Doctor Connors and his team were working on and the progress that had been made so far. At first the information had flown onto the screen easily enough, but Peter quickly found himself struggling to explain to potential investors just why it was that Doctor Connors had abandoned the lizard DNA formula that he had been so uncompromisingly certain of in previous lectures and interviews.

The second email was about Electro and how Doctor Connors was trying to fix this constant problem for the people of New York. This one had been easier to write, as Peter's own experience with the electric powered super villain had fuelled his fingers and he had quickly typed up descriptions and examples of Maxwell's destructive abilities and the threat level that the living lighting lunatic posed in such detail that even New York's greatest sceptics would be swayed into supporting the research.

The third was a combination of the two, Doctor Connors needed help, fast, and while Peter was certain he could find plenty of rich benefactors names on the ESU's database to send his emails to, it wouldn't hurt to be able to tease both projects at once and hope for the best.

He was almost finished.

A few quick touches here and there and he would be ready to begin putting his plan into action. Doctor Connors would be arriving in a few hours and by then things would already have taken a turn for the better. The good man who had devoted his life and incredible intellect towards the betterment of all mankind burdens would be lifted and Curt would be free to continue helping others without the pressure and shackles of Miles Warren weighing him down.

If only the words on the screen would stay still.

Blinking again Peter tried to bring his world back into focus.

He had done a good job and was almost finished; perhaps he could take a quick break and then come back fresh.

There were still a few hours before Doctor Connors showed up.

And he had been on patrol last night.

Fought the Shocker.

Chased his ex.

Broke into City Hall to return a priceless jewel.

Failed to even begin looking into this new Goblin, who at this very moment, could be selling some of Osborn's old weaponry to common street thugs.

And he still needed to think about Spider-Man talking to Harry and getting that bounty removed from his head.

Groaning at the long list of problems he set for himself, Peter Parker stood up and found that his body didn't like the sudden movement. His limbs felt like they were filled with wet sand and as he took a few awkward steps away from the university computer he found that once again the world was blurring up on him.

He needed a hot drink.

And a soft pillow.

Eyeing the small black leather couch in the corner of the study room, Peter slowly stumbled towards it. The piece of furniture was starting to show its age, with small but growing cracks stained the fabric. Pressing his palm into the worn leather cushions he decided it would serve his purpose and quickly collapsed on it.

A few minutes, he lied to himself.

Peter would rest for a few minutes and then finish off those emails.

Closing his eyes, he almost believed himself as sleep took a hold of him.

* * *

Staring down at the sidewalk Peter Parker couldn't remember why exactly he had stopped walking. He also didn't remember where he had been going, or if it was a particularly important journey he was on or just a casual stroll.

What did matter, what had captivated the young man entirely, was the single black dot of goo sitting on the sidewalk.

For an eternity Peter just stared at it, not wondering what it was or what its significance could be. The idea of how such a tiny drop of goo could command all of his attention simply by existing never even crossed his mind.

Then through the vibrations of a passing vehicle, or perhaps another pedestrian's heavy footsteps, the drop of goo moved ever so slightly, catching the light as it did.

Intrigued, consumed with curiosity, Peter Parker bent down and slowly stretched out an arm towards the droplet. With a single digit extended, the young man hovered his finger an inch above the black goo unsure if he should touch it, fearing he would forever ruin whatever magic it held over him but afraid that if he did not act it would possibly run off the sidewalk and be forever lost down a storm drain. But then, the most incredible thing happened.

Having not moved his finger any closer to the droplet, Peter gasped and almost lost his balance as the black goo leaped off the sidewalk and onto his fingernail.

For a moment the young man stared in disbelief and wonder. The droplet of goo was once again still, unmoving, lazily reflecting the sun's light off its dark body. Letting out a laugh of amazement Peter carefully stood up, trying not to shake his hand and condemn the droplet to fall a long way down back onto the sidewalk.

Bringing his finger closer to his face, Peter tried to study the goo for any clues as to how was able to move on its own as it did. His mind was racing with wild possibilities, each more impossible than the last, but when the mundane, rational, explanations of science failed to come close to explaining the tiny wonder he held, the crazy became acceptable substitutes.

Then the goo began to melt.

Peter, who had only known about the droplet's existence for a few short minutes, felt such heartbreak at the sight that it was unreal. A wonder of science was running out over his fingernail and he didn't have a clue how to stop it. Cupping his other hand under his still outstretched finger, he hoped to catch the goo and spare it from falling back onto the pavement.

But it never fell.

Instead the goo wrapped itself tightly over the top of his finger, becoming a black cover for it. In seconds it had ceased running and became a solid substance.

Carefully poking the black material with his other hand, Peter was delighted to find it didn't react which hopefully meant it wasn't in danger of melting again.

By attaching itself to his finger the droplet of goo had somehow managed to protect itself from whatever had caused it to start running.

This was good.

He needed the black goo to be safe.

Looking at the world around him, Peter Parker wasn't at all concerned at how he had suddenly become the only living creature to exist. The cars and other vehicles, which had been racing around on their drivers business had all stopped and were now vacant.

The sidewalk was deserted.

Not a bird in the sky.

All that lived was Peter and the drop of goo.

This was good.

Perfect.

Looking back down at his finger, Peter saw that the black cover had started to grow. Slowly his finger was being consumed by the goo. But instead of experiencing spine chilling fear at the horrifying sight, he felt relief, and an odd sense of déjà vu.

This was good.

The black goo was able to replicate itself out of seemingly nothing, growing and consuming more and more of his flesh, in less than a minute Peter's finger was now covered in an ultra-fine layer of the black material, and the goo didn't seem to show any signs of stopping.

When it reached the base of his finger it branched out on many paths. Four lines of black goo reached for his remaining fingers and thumb while the roots continued to consume Peter's palm.

Turning his hand over in experimentation, Peter watched in delight as his hand was fully covered and yet remained completely under his control. Curling and uncurling his fingers, he could feel the goo begin to crawl up his wrist.

Perhaps he could help speed things along.

Bringing his free hand up close to his now goo encased one, Peter pressed both his palms together.

Instantly understanding his intent, the black goo quickly began to consume the other hand, picking up speed as more and more of Peter's body was covered. He could feel it under his shirt sleeve, growing; it was almost past his elbow.

The sensation that he felt as more and more of him was covered by the black goo was pure harmony.

Perfection.

This was good.

This was also familiar.

Racking his brain for an answer, Peter stood still and let the black goo consume him.

No.

Not goo.

It had a name.

He had given it a name from before.

Yes.

Yes, Peter suddenly could remember now, this wasn't his first meeting with the wonderful creature that was slowly embracing him.

Symbiote.

The name floated up from the depths of his mind. And with it came the memories of their time together.

The Symbiote had become a part of him, shaping itself into a suit for him; giving him more power than Peter Parker had ever dreamed about.

It had improved everything he already had as Spider-Man, taking him to the next level. He could fight crime for days and not once feel a hint of exhaustion, he no longer needed to rely on the artificial webbing that he cooked up with his chemistry kit, instead the Symbiote provided him with its own form of webbing without end.

His strength, speed and agility were all enhanced; he became unstoppable in a fight, able to move like a shadow.

Together, Peter and the Symbiote had done great things together. And they shall do so again.

Bringing his covered hands up to his face; Peter let the Symbiote wash over him. Tendrils of the goo reached from his hands and latched onto his skin. A black mask quickly formed and began to grow. It tickled. Closing his eyes, Peter opened himself up to the sensation of the merger that was taking place now.

His head was soon completely covered and he knew that if he opened his eyes he would be able to see through the eyes that the Symbiote provided him.

It was almost complete.

The suit had almost finished forming itself around Peter Parker.

But from the depths of his mind, something or someone was trying to reach him.

To warn him.

But the Symbiote squashed that voice, silencing it.

All that was needed was the two of them to be together.

This was good.

He needed this. They were linked now not just in body but in mind. Their bond was special. Fulfilling. Peter Parker realised that he wasn't complete without it.

The black suit gave him everything he would ever need, everything that they could ever want. And it asked for nothing in return.

He had been selfish before, afraid. Yes, rejecting the Symbiote and the gifts it had provided was a mistake. A foolish error. But that was in the past.

Because the Symbiote forgave him.

It welcomed him back with open arms like the father to the prodigal son.

And that surely proved it.

Because how could anything so loving and accepting be a bad thing?

For the first time in his wretched life, Peter Parker felt whole. He was complete.

And he would never, ever, be alone again.

Others had tried to make him feel like this. Aunt May, Uncle Ben, Mary Jane Watson, Harry Osborn, Curt Connors, none of them had come close. Even Felicia Hardy for all her tantalising manipulations and charms couldn't give Peter this sense of wholeness.

It was a paradise to be like this.

To be one.

Together the two of them could accomplish so much. The city that they loved would be safe under their combined watch. There would be peace on the streets. The crimes bosses, the enemies he had made protecting the innocent, the Norman Osborn's of the world, they would all learn to fear their combined power.

Together they would end the threats to the people of the city. And if others tried to reign them in, dared to try and shackle their powers. Then they would destroy them as well.

Together they would be feared throughout the world. Feared and loved.

"Peter?"

The sound of his name caused a sudden divide in their joined mind, and for a single, soul cleansing moment, the Symbiote released its grip on Peter Parker and he could see.

Memories of their time together came back to him. Not the good. But the side of itself the Symbiote tried to hide. Their mutual bond was a false one and the black alien goo didn't want to share control, the body and mind of Peter Parker was to become its puppet, a source of emotional energy.

The Symbiote had whispered into his mind deceptions and lies, making him turn away from those who loved him. Those who could help him.

Peter had known this and yet he had been deceived once again. He needed to get the Symbiote off him before it was too late.

Opening his eyes Peter found only darkness. The eyes that the Symbiote would normally provide to him were closed. Leaving him cut off from the outside world.

Reaching with his hands, Peter grabbed a hold of the black alien material covering him and tried to pull. The goo yielded but as he tore a chunk off his arm, the Symbiote quickly re-covered the exposed skin rendering the effort worthless.

Time was running out.

The suit had now covered his flesh and linked their minds. But if the Symbiote wanted complete control it would need to squash Peter's conscious down into the depth of his brain. He could feel it happening, Peter was losing control.

Tearing off another chunk of the costume, Peter became frenzied, ripping and pulling at the suit with all his might.

Grabbing at the mask he dug his fingers into the material and began to pull. The Symbiote raged against his efforts, holding itself together through the power of hate that fuelled it.

But then a small glimmer of light emerged through the mask. Digging in deep, Peter Parker fought with everything he had to try and bring himself back to the real world.

He had freed himself from this poison before and he could do it again.

"Peter?" The same voice from before called to him.

But the Symbiote drew new strength from the voice and the small hole that taunted Peter with the light was stitched back together, leaving him in total darkness.

Then, as Peter had gripped the outside of his mask, the inside gripped his own head.

Screaming into the Symbiote's flesh, Peter tried to pull it off him but the mask became slippery and he could no longer keep a hold of it with his hands.

It was suffocating.

He was being swallowed whole.

The Symbiote began digging into his skull, breaking through the thick bone and slipping razor sharp tendrils into his mind, slowly carving into his brain, removing any and all traces of his humanity.

"Peter? Peter you need to wake up!"

He tried to answer, but as he opened his mouth he found all he could do is scream as his mind went blank and he fell into a pit of unyielding darkness filled with sharp teeth.

* * *

Debra Whitman shrieked in horror and stumbled backwards as the sleeping Peter launched himself like a torpedo off the leather couch and into the wall. Hitting it, the young man then tumbled onto the floor and for a terrible moment Debra feared she had watched Peter Parker's untimely demise.

The low groan he emitted removed that fear from her mind.

"Oh my God, Peter? Are you okay?" Falling onto one knee the blonde woman shook him, forgetting everything she'd ever learned about first aid.

"Oww." He replied, bringing a hand up to the back of his head. Rising to her feet, Debra Whitman thanked whoever was listening that he hadn't died. She then chastised herself for panicking like a child in the face of an emergency. Finally she settled on anger towards Peter to cover up her shock and fear.

Standing tall with a hand on each hip, she watched as Peter slowly picked himself up. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nice to see you too Ms. Whitman." Peter said, overjoyed to be back in the real world that he actually meant it.

"Are you on drugs? Is that what this is all about?"

Standing up Peter ignored his dishevelled appearance and instead looked at Debra with pure confusion. "Do you think I do drugs?"

"Well, maybe." Debra shrugged. "I mean, you're always late, your more broke than a church mouse, you always look tired or like you just got beat up but then you act like nothing happened, and there was that just now." She pointed at the couch.

"I was sleeping?"

"Thrashing around like you were being mauled by something and shrieking. I mean actually shrieking, that is not normal Peter."

"I was just having a bad dream." Peter said with his best poker face.

Only it wasn't just a bad dream, it was his worst nightmare. Becoming one with the Symbiote again and losing himself in the darkness. It had been almost two weeks since Peter had last experienced the dream with such force, believing that time would slowly rid him of the lingering memories of the black suit.

But Peter couldn't focus on that now. He had enough to deal with as it is, and he most certainly didn't need Debra Whitman going to Doctor Connor's and declaring that he was on drugs or something. Or worse yet, Miles Warren.

"A bad dream huh?" She crossed her arms and waited.

"Yes." Peter replied trying to keep the mood light. He really didn't have time for this. "It was something stupid. Quite embarrassing really."

It then struck him that Debra Whitman was here, and that brought to life a question he was afraid of having answered. Just how long had he been asleep?

Racing towards the work station he quickly gave the mouse a shake and brought his computer out of its powered down state.

It wasn't as bad as it could have been. At only seven, forty eight Peter still had almost an hour before Doctor Connors was expected to arrive, if he hurried and dived straight back into it he could still finish up those emails.

Although he would need more time to dig up some names to send them too.

"Wait were you working?"

Peter turned and saw that Debra was still standing there, arms folded across her chest, watching him. "Why so surprised?" He joked.

It was a mistake.

"Because you never come in and work early, or late. In fact I think most of the science department recognises you as the least dependable man in in all of New York."

"Ouch."

"When I walked in and saw that it was you making all that noise, I honestly thought that your Aunt had enough and finally kicked you out."

"Ouch." Peter repeated. Standing up, his mind was already working on a rebuttal when Debra darted forward peering at the text on his screen. "Hey!"

"You're writing something up? Is it for Doctor Connors?"

Peter tried to move the blonde away from his screen but the shorter woman was surprisingly stubborn and planted her feet as she continued to read. In a childish move, he placed his hand in front of her glasses causing her to pull back with a huff of annoyance. "It's private." He started to explain.

"It's our work," She fired back. "Why are you writing up our work, and why would Doctor Connors ask you, of all people, to do it… unless he didn't-" Peter's spider sense tingled for a second as the woman's face morphed into one of shock and then anger. "You!" She pointed at him.

"What?"

"Are you selling us out?"

"No!" Peter almost yelled. "Where do you come up with this stuff?"

"I've worked here for almost five years Peter Parker and I don't recall you sticking your neck out once for Doctor Connors now all of a sudden you're writing up-" She leaned in once again to look at the screen. "Emails to… investors?"

Debra stopped talking for a moment and stared at the screen. Peter silently cursed. She was a brilliant young woman regardless of his personal feelings towards her. There was no point in lying or trying to misdirect her. She would only give him more grief for it.

He just had to hope that Doctor Connors would forgive him for spilling the secret less than twenty four hours after he'd confided in him.

"Doctor Connors is having problems." Peter started to explain, tearing Debra's attention away from his emails. "It's a bit of a long story and I can't tell you all of it but… he needs help."

Debra's anger melted away as quickly as it had arrived and within seconds she was quickly starting to put all the pieces together.

"Is this why Professor Warren was here yesterday?" Peter nodded. "How bad is it?"

"Very. But that's why I'm trying to reach out to others and maybe get the Doc back up on his feet."

Debra Whitman nodded and turned back to the screen. Taking a hold of the mouse she scrolled through Peter's work and continued to read. After several minutes of silence she stopped and stood up right. "You spelled our boss's name wrong on the second email. Twice."

"Thanks." Peter said, hoping she was just trying to rile him up. He hadn't been that tired… had he?

"I want to help."

It was almost eight years of being Spider-Man that caused Peter to begin saying no before he had even thought about the offer. But inspiration struck him before he said anything out loud. Debra Whitman was reliable.

She had been the top laboratory assistant ever since Peter had started working under Doctor Connors. Tirelessly she had aided, supervised and even led projects and her passion for science couldn't be matched by anyone not listed as a supervillain.

It was almost laughable but Peter Parker actually wanted to receive help from Debra Whitman.

"That would be great."

Pushing Peter aside, Debra stole his chair and got to work. "So I like your approach, it's direct and human, easy to read, a little simple in places but it's not going to confuse anyone with terminology."

"Thanks."

"But." Peter almost laughed. Of course there was a but. "We really need to give it some punch, hook their attention from the first sentence."

"You know I worked at a newspaper for almost five years right?" Peter asked with a shake of his head while Debra's fingers raced across the keyboard.

"Yes, and you've told us that you were fired every other week."

"It doesn't count if J.J does it." He argued but Debra wasn't listening.

"Do you have a list of potential investors yet?"

"No, I was sort of hoping to do that after I finished."

"Well you can get started now while I work on this. We'll reconvene in half an hour; make sure you pick a mix between old investors and new ones. The university should still have the past donors saved on Doctor Connors's profile."

"As you command." Peter saluted and began walking towards the door. Before he left he turned back to Debra who was now fully engrossed in her work, typing furiously. "Thank you for this."

She nodded, not looking away from the screen. But when Peter's hand fell on the door handle she spoke. "Peter? Are you sure it was just a bad dream?"

He turned back to her. "Yeah. It was nothing really, already forgotten about it."

Debra stopped typing. She looked unconvinced. "Okay. But maybe you should get some help if you keep having it. You sounded," A pause. "Terrible."

Peter nodded and then left the study room. As he closed the door behind him he felt a cold shiver crawl up his spine.

"It was just a bad dream." He whispered to himself. The Symbiote was gone now. Locked safely away.

* * *

Pulling several comical faces in quick succession, the Green Goblin opened his jaw wide and took a long hard look at all his gleaming white teeth in the small table top mirror. It was incredible what the mask was capable of, every emotion; every little facial detail was conveyed perfectly onto the material, allowing the world to see that the Goblin wasn't just some two bit thug with a balaclava over his face.

The Goblin was a living, breathing nightmare.

It was also incredible what a slight facial twitch or raised brow could do for the work force when it came from the face of the monster that had terrorised New York. The laugh still needed work of course, but the Green Goblin wasn't going to rule the city just by cackling at his enemies.

A soft knock on his small office's door caused the Goblin to cease his self-admiration and turn in his wheeled chair towards the sound. The door opened and the forgettable face of one of his many minions peeked around the wooden surface.

"Sir they've just arrived."

"Brilliant. Be a dear and show them in will you?" The minion nodded and began to close the door failing to hide his nervous state when faced with the grinning monster. "I'll be right down."

Standing up the Green Goblin did a small twirl, checking for any flaws in the mirror. Presentation was important when it came to business. Old Osborn had known that and cut quite the figure as the strong, no nonsense leader of Oscorp, people just had to look at him and know he was the kind of man who could steer a ship through a storm.

Sadly a several thousand dollar suit and striking facial features wouldn't cut it with the crowd that the Goblin did business with. No, you had to speak their language, let them know before the first word had been uttered that you knew the game and all the dirty tricks.

And that if anyone tried to pull anything…

Reaching for his purple bag, the Green Goblin slipped the strap over his shoulder and did a last minute check to make sure all his usual armaments were there. Pumpkin bombs, razor bats and a couple of gas pellets.

Perfect.

Staring into the mirror the Green Goblin stretched his jaw as far as it could go, showing off dozens of white polished teeth. "Show time." He smirked.

Today's bunch was nothing special. A small gang from the west side who had made a name for themselves as hands for hire, a useful service that could not be overlooked when a certain wall crawler could cut a large taskforce in half the night before a big job.

But despite working for the Enforcers, Hammerhead and even a few of the local supervillains, they had remained small time, due to their desire for independence, not wanting to pledge loyalty to any one organisation, and potentially cut off other better paying jobs.

Regardless they were good at what they did and knew their place in the world. Something which Osborn had taken note of. With most of the criminal underworld, there was always a chance of betrayal from over ambitious underlings or power mad partners. Loyalty was a rare commodity and one worth exploiting.

They would play their roles perfectly.

Slipping out of his office, the Goblin climbed a nearby ladder that would take him to where his glider was stored among the rafters. While it would have been more practical to keep the fast moving and heavily armed transport close at hand, the Green Goblin liked to watch every new group arrive from an aerial position unseen.

And for all his wonders Osborn had failed to create a glider that was capable of quiet flying.

Several Pumpkin heads escorted five members of the hands for hire group through the brightly lit industrial warehouse that served as the Goblin's workshop. On the outside it looked identical to all the other rundown buildings in the area, but on the inside it was another matter. Glossy white floors, advanced machines and automated lines that were hard at work building state of the art weapons which were then loaded into iron crates ready to be shipped off overseas under the cover of darkness.

As they passed the weapon assembly line the small time group had naturally stared in wonder, a trick that the Goblin had taken from Osborn's playbook. Showing productivity let the common thugs know that their new boss was hard at work and that they were about to join a growing organisation.

Walking past the last of the machinery, the hired hands were led towards the back end of the warehouse which served as the Goblin's demonstration area. Wide open with only a few empty metal crates to break up the landscape, it was here that the Pumpkin heads turned and began to walk away, leaving the group to begin scratching their heads as to what exactly was about to happen.

"What's going on Malone?" The most seasoned of the group asked, watching with suspicion as the last of the Pumpkin heads vanished out of sight, leaving them all alone. "You said this was an opportunity."

"I did, now just wait a second alright?" Malone Alten, the de facto leader of the gang, responded trying to keep the unease out of his own voice. He too wasn't feeling comfortable with how things were playing out and was already taking notice of the several black doors covering the three surrounding walls. "Don't do anything until I say so."

The Green Goblin grinned. Already Malone and his gang were starting to get rattled and he hadn't even presented himself yet.

This was going to be fun.

"I don't like this man." Another one of the group said spotting the scorch marks staining the white floor from previous demonstrations.

"Guys, relax."

Digging his heel onto the control panel beneath his feet the glider's engine roared to life and up from his observation point, the Goblin streaked into view and let loose a loud cackle.

It was good.

Enough to get a hardened criminal gang to jump in surprise.

Dipping his right wing with near expert precision, the Green Goblin began to circle the group, letting them get a good look at him as he slowly spiralled towards the ground. He watched as the seasoned one of the bunch reached for a weapon stuffed in the back of his jeans and for a moment the Goblin feared that today's little show would end rather quickly.

But just as the Green Goblin's gloved hand reached for his shoulder bag, Malone reigned in his goon with a look.

What a smart boy.

When he was only two meters above the ground the Green Goblin jumped from his glider and landed on the warehouse floor. Stretching his arms above his head in mock celebration, he then took a deep bow to his captivated audience.

"Woah it's really him." One of the group whispered in both fear and awe.

"Gentlemen." The Goblin started, putting on his best smile and watching with delight at the reactions from the criminal gang as they saw first-hand at what his mask was capable of. "Thank you so much for accepting my invitation."

"Mr. Goblin," Malone Alten started towards him. "It's a real pleasure to meet you sir."

"How charming." The Green Goblin replied meeting the gang leader halfway. "Nice manners are so hard to come by these days."

"So what's this all about?" The Goblin watched as Malone flushed a light red and turned back to the seasoned member of his gang. Osborn's files mentioned him, but the Goblin hadn't really taken the time necessary to study him up, once you won over the leader the rest were sure to follow, that was just pack mentality.

Besides why learn someone's name when they weren't going to be sticking around long?

"Vinny shut it." The hands for hire leader growled.

"No, no. A fair question." The Goblin interjected, smoothly returning Malone's attention back to him. "The truth of the matter is that I have a problem and I could really use your help."

"A problem sir?" Malone asked, following the exact same script that several other small time leaders had read from.

"That's right. As you boys may have noticed earlier I've got quite the arsenal stored up here and I am quickly running out of room for it."

Malone and the rest of the group nodded. Vinny however remained still, his dark eyes filled with suspicion.

"Well as my old man once put it, if you got no use for it, sell it to someone who does. Sadly boys this town's already got its fair share of arms dealers. Hammerhead, that old goat Silvermane and even the Crime Master have got complete control over the market and they aren't interested in letting another party nuzzle in on their business."

Slowly walking as he talked, the Green Goblin led the group towards the centre of his testing ground. "That's when I got an idea. A brilliant one. Free samples."

"Free samples?" Malone dubiously asked. "For weapons?"

"Of course." The Goblin smiled. "With free samples I can show off my wares without trying to compete with the old guard. You've seen my toys in action haven't you boys?"

The group began nodding.

"Oh yeah, plenty of times on the TV."

"You took out Lucky Lobo's entire gang. Single handed."

"You even had Spider-Man on the run."

The Goblin's grin momentarily faltered and Malone feared one of his men might have made a terrible mistake. But the smile quickly returned. "Let's not talk about the wall crawler just yet, besides I've think we've talked enough as it is."

Clapping his gloved hands together the Green Goblin watched as once more the gang of thugs grew nervous when each of the half a dozen doors surrounding the demonstration site slid open and a perfectly moulded mannequin was rolled on out atop of a platform trolley.

In complete contrast to the Pumpkin heads that they had seen earlier, which was made up of petty small time criminals very similar to the hands for hire gang, the individuals pushing the trolleys were well dressed, each sporting a fancy suit and wearing a pair of reflective shades.

Coming to a united stop, the suits smoothly picked up the mannequins and began setting them up. While the gang's eyes were fixed on them, the Goblin's hand slipped into his bag and selected a pumpkin bomb.

The urge to throw it was always present during this moment. The suits, while obeying his orders did not work for the Goblin, belonging body and soul to Osborn. They were only loyal to him as long as he followed their master's vision, and the moment he completed it, the Green Goblin suspected that they and all the rest of Norman's lackeys would see him as a loose end.

No matter. He was already working on countermeasures for that eventuality.

But first things first.

"Here you go." The Goblin said presenting the pumpkin bomb to Malone who stared at the gift in confusion.

"For me?"

"That's right. How's your pitching arm?" The Goblin asked looking back towards the mannequins. The Osborn suits took a hold of their platform trolleys and rolled them back towards the various doors they had entered from.

Quickly piecing together what it was the Goblin had in mind, an award winning grin bloomed onto Malone's face. Taking the orange explosive from the Goblin's gloved hands he took a few steps towards the mannequins and began stretching his arms and legs. The hands for hire gang quickly joined on the fun and began throwing words of encouragement at their leader.

"It's like bowling okay; you just aim for the middle."

"Go for a strike!"

"You got this man."

"Say Mr. Goblin, can I have a go?"

"Yes, yes." The Green Goblin smiled. "You'll all have a chance to play with Gobby's toys but first let me show you how it's done."

Slipping into a pitchers stance that he hadn't used since high school Malone listened carefully as the Goblin gave him the quick rundown.

"It's in standby mode at the moment which I recommend you use when traveling with them. To prep a pumpkin bomb all you need to do is hold down here." The Goblin pointed at the top of the orange casing. "And it will activate the moment it leaves you hand. But be careful once you let go it cannot be deactivated and you've only got three seconds till the big boom."

After spending a few moments more on improving Malone's stance the Green Goblin backed off and gave the gang leader his chance.

Pressing down on the top of the pumpkin bomb like he had been told, Malone watched as the jack o lantern face glowed bright neon green. Licking the top of his lip, the gang leader pulled back his arm and saw in his mind exactly where he wanted the explosive to land.

Moving his whole body at once, Malone Alten hurled his first pumpkin bomb. While he still had most of the power from his youth, his aim had deteriorated. Instead of sailing into the centre of the mannequins, the orange explosive stuck the right arm of one of the front row targets causing instant detonation.

The pumpkin bomb let loose its ghoulish scream as the first three of the dummy targets were swallowed up in the fiery blast.

Malone and his gang stumbled backwards, surprised at the ferocity of the explosion but as quickly as it had arrived, it vanished leaving three untouched mannequins and adding a brand new scorch mark onto the white floor.

"Not bad." The Green Goblin critiqued slowly walking towards the blast zone. Spotting the burnt remains of a head sitting among the broken remains of Malone's kills he nodded in approval. "Not bad at all. Wanna try again?" He offered with a fresh pumpkin bomb.

On the second throw Malone took out the remaining three mannequins with cheers of approval from the other hands for hire members. Even Vinny looked happy as the pumpkin bomb reduced the final targets to ash.

Once more the doors slid open and fresh mannequins were wheeled out by Osborn's stooges and the fun began anew.

How quickly the Goblin cemented his control over the group, becoming the show runner to the little game. He would hand out powerful explosives as if they were penny sweets and the earlier fear and hesitation from the gang at his presence vanished, becoming admiration and delight.

But after everyone in the group had at least three goes in destroying the harmless mannequins the Osborn suits returned their trolleys through the doors and didn't return. The game was now over.

"Well boys I think we can say you're all naturals."

"Heck yeah."

"This was a real blast Mr. Goblin." Malone smiled looking over at the demonstration area which was now littered with the destroyed remains of dozens of mannequins. "No pun intended."

"Well I'm glad you boys had fun." The Goblin said watching as an Osborn suit approached carrying a large duffle bag. Placing it on the floor a few feet from where the gang was standing, he turned and left without a word. "A present." The Green Goblin explained.

Opening it up, one of the gang members was greeted with dozens of jack o lantern explosives staring up at him. "Holy sh-"

"Woah!"

"Are you really going to give all that away for free?"

The Green Goblin shrugged. "Not completely. First I need you boys to promise me something." They all nodded in agreement, won over by the Goblin's easy going and generous nature. "First, that you promise to tell all your curious little friends that it was I who gave you your wonderful new toys, but don't tell them where to find me. I'll find them."

"Absolutely sir." Malone Alten said.

"Second, if you should happen to run afoul of the wall crawler, same rule. Mention my name all you want. But don't breathe a word about this place." The Goblin's crowd winning smile became a sinister grin when a murderous gleam entered his sick yellow eyes. "Otherwise I'll feel betrayed, and you wouldn't want to see what happens to those who betray me."

The hands for hire gang again nodded as they were reminded that the man who had brought them such amusement was capable of wiping out feared mob rackets in mere minutes without earning so much as a scratch.

"Now then, run along boys, run along. Have fun, use my gifts well and earn yourselves lots of cash, because my free samples won't last forever and I'll have plenty more to show you next time."

Picking up the duffle bag, the gang were escorted from the premises by the same Pumpkin heads that had led them in. Once the group was out of earshot an Osborn suit approached the Green Goblin.

"You are giving away too much."

Rolling his eyes the Goblin turned to look at the suit. He had always despised yes men, and would have though Osborn was the same. That was how their partnership had started after all. But it turned out that Norman had been just another multi-millionaire who had needed his ego constantly reassured and had surrounded himself with unimaginative lackeys who would treat his every word like gospel.

"We can always make more." The Goblin stated dryly, pointing towards the various machines hard at work only two dozen feet from where he stood.

"The resources Mr. Osborn assigned to you are not limitless."

"Ah, so you're his accountant. I was starting to wonder."

Pushing a button on the remote hidden beneath his glove, the Green Goblin heard the roar of the engine as the glider returned to life and left its docking station back at his observation point. Homing in on his location the smart transport lowered itself enough so that the masked being could leap aboard and relinquished control the second the Goblin's booted feet made contact with the impulse controls.

"I am whatever Mr. Osborn needed me to be and right now I am advising you to follow Mr. Osborn's plans exactly as he laid them out, failure to do so will have consequences."

With a twitch of his foot, the Green Goblin could produce a seven inch blade from the gargoyle head at the front of his glider. With another, he could engage the turbo and impale the little man who clung to his dead idol's words with such devotion it was enough to make him want to wretch. Oh how the Goblin would relish the day when he could execute his plans for these mindless drones. But that day was still a long way off and for the moment he needed them and the resources they alone had access too.

Standing at his full height, the Goblin's glider rose up from the ground, allowing him to look down on the suit. "I'm playing Osborn's game, but a certain someone's gone off script. Spider-Man was supposed to be suffering from lasting injuries, but he's already taken out one of my previous investments and seems to be in tip top shape." Narrowing his yellow eyes the Goblin's voice was consumed by venom. "So if you want me to do as Osborn wished, then we need to step up our game and put the pressure on, otherwise we're all just wasting our time and giving the wall crawler a chance to track us down."

"Mr. Osborn-"

"Is dead!" The Goblin roared. "So I'm in charge of this operation, and I say we're going to get every single loser on that list of his armed to the teeth and ready to cause mayhem across this city from dawn till dusk and when the wall crawler is so exhausted that he starts seeing pumpkin bombs in his sleep then, and only then, will we move onto the next stage of Osborn's plan do you understand?"

The suit stood as still as a statue and for a moment the Green Goblin wondered if he had malfunctioned. "We shall follow your revised plan." The suit relented. "For now."

"Wonderful. Anything else?"

The suit shook his head once and turned away, walking back towards one of the sliding doors.

Gritting his teeth together the Goblin rode his glider back to his observation point. Docking the transport onto its refuelling station he returned to his office to find a loyal Pumpkin head waiting for him.

Slamming the door shut behind him, the Goblin advanced with a single finger extended. "Tell Roman I want an update before the day is out and it had better be good news." The Pumpkin head nodded and quickly backed up as the Green Goblin continued striding forward. "Any collectors on my offer?"

"None yet sir."

"Pity. Well no matter it is still early days."

"Yes sir."

"Tell the others, no change in plans just yet. Business as usual understand?" The Goblin continued closing the gap until the Pumpkin head bumped against the far wall of the office and found himself staring directly into the yellow eyes of his lord and master.

"Yes sir." He managed to utter.

"Good. Now get out."

Pressed up against the wall the Pumpkin head squeezed past his fearsome boss and raced towards the exit. Not watching him leave the Green Goblin waited until he heard the sound of his door close behind his minion before he reached for the hidden clasp of his mask.

* * *

Thank you all for reading. If you have any feedback or ideas you want to share please leave a review.


	6. Reflection

**A/N: I've decided to cut this chapter in two as it was getting close to 13,000 words. Please let me know if you, my readers, prefer short or long chapters for future consideration.**

* * *

Sitting cross-legged on her bed wearing a pair of grey joggers and a black sports bra, Felicia Hardy slowly stirred her morning coffee as she waited for her log in details to be accepted.

Whatever it was that had put Peter on edge was most likely going to be connected to his life as Spider-Man and while searching through the Daily Bugle or Globe's online archives to catch up on all that she missed would probably have been far quicker, Felicia was unwilling to subject herself to the brain numbing prattle that either paper was proud to print as news regarding the web slinger. Fortunately for her there were alternatives to Jameson's rag.

Despite his best efforts to paint Spider-Man as a masked menace and a threat to society greater than that of any supervillain or hostile foreign power, J. Jonah Jameson hadn't been able to prevent a small but ever growing group of people from trusting their own eyes and realising that Peter's brightly costumed alter ego was only there to help.

Fan clubs had been formed, online channels dedicated to the wall crawler's heroics were maintained and updated regularly, and it wasn't long before admirers from all walks of life had come together and formed an online archive, trying to record a complete and unbiased history of Spider-Man throughout the eight years he had been active.

Affectionately known as Web-Heads Haven, the movement had quickly gained traction, with hundreds of volunteers putting in the time and effort to help fill in the many blanks in Spider-Man's near endless list of adventures and heroics. Felicia had personally written up several entries on the fan site posing as a variety of eye witnesses as she retold fantastic battles and rescues that she herself had performed alongside the web slinger.

For a brief moment, the somewhat reformed jewel thief wondered if Peter was aware of just how many lives he had touched during his time as Spider-Man, and how much his efforts were appreciated by an ever-growing population.

 **Welcome back NoirCat79.**

Placing the cup of coffee on her bedside cabinet, Felicia quickly got to work. Web-Heads Haven's front page was filled with articles, fan theories, and news reports, often taking the images that the Daily Bugle used for its big stories but presenting an alternative and more accurate side of the story. If Jameson launched an attack on Spider-Man, blaming him for the property damage caused in the Rhino's latest rampage throughout the city, a story would quickly be posted praising the wall crawler for defeating the jungle themed villain and preventing any loss of life.

Clicking on a spider emblem, Felicia navigated her way back through the site's timeline to just before the point when she and Peter had gone their separate ways and began scrolling through the eye catching headlines in search of red flags.

 **Spider-Man vs. Molten Man.**

 **Where is the Black Cat?**

 **Spider-Man stops out of control train.**

 **Missing Cat?**

 **His finest hour. Our Hero.**

 **Spider-Man vs. Mysterio.**

 **Have Spider-Man and the Black Cat broken up?**

 **Spider-Man saved my life today.**

 **A thank you to Spider-Man.**

 **Just how strong is Spider-Man?**

And so it continued.

Felicia smiled at the articles mentioning her absence, pleased that she hadn't been forgotten about by Mr. Parker's loyal fan base. But as she continued scrolling through the missed battles and excitement, nothing stuck out. It appeared as if it had been business as usual. Peter fought the good fight, saved the day, and swung off into the sunset. There were no headlines announcing that Doc Ock had blown up Times Square or that the Vulture had torched a hospital. No articles reporting crippling defeats or of Spider-Man failing to save someone at the crucial moment.

It was all just fine.

Puzzled at this development she continued reading while reaching out for her cup of coffee. Taking a long sip, Felicia scrolled past the first article mentioning a new suit, thinking nothing of it.

As far as the outside world was aware, Spider-Man had in his possession many suits that he switched out of whenever the old one got damaged or dirty, but the surprising truth as Felicia had discovered was that Peter had only two pairs of his classic red and blue suit and that he would often stay up all night and repair any and all damage done to his outfit by hand.

She remembered once offering to foot the bill to pay for a new costume, but Peter, predictable as ever, had politely refused, sticking to his own hard work and achievement, which Felicia hadn't been able to fault.

On the second article mentioning it, Felicia paused but didn't click the link. She wasn't here to see what minor cosmetic change Peter had added during her absence; she was here to find answers as to why the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man was giving her the cold shoulder.

And it had better not have anything to do with his childish stance on her taking the occasional trinket here or there otherwise Peter Parker was in for a serious talking to.

The third story caught her interest and she returned her cup of coffee onto the bedside cabinet.

 **Back in black? Spidey's new suit.**

Hovering her mouse over the article, she clicked it open in a new tab.

The story's main picture captivated her instantly. There was her loveable idiot, catching a thrown car that he could have easily avoided in order to protect the innocent bystanders caught up in another supervillain downtown brawl.

But gone was the red and the blue colours of his classic look, gone was the over layered web pattern that she and the rest of New York had grown so familiar with. Now the suit Spider-Man wore was black and white, hugging Peter's upper torso as if it was a skin tight material but caught the light as though it were made of high class leather.

He looked good.

The suit seemed to radiate power as Peter appeared to have no difficulty in keeping the thrown vehicle held high above his head. Leading Felicia to begin immediately checking out the web slinger's sculpted muscles that were on display through the black material.

"Meow."

Momentarily putting the mystery of Peter's sour mood on hold, Felicia went back and found the previous articles mentioning the suit. She read quickly, more interested in the pictures than the words feeding her the fresh context.

 **\- Spidey's new outfit is kickass –**

 **\- It first appeared a few nights after the break in at Smyth laboratories –**

 **\- Accused of taking the new mineral, extracted by Colonel Jameson's team on their recent asteroid mining expedition -**

 **\- Has yet to comment on his new look. -**

Running a perfectly manicured nail under her bottom lip, Felicia Hardy drank in the new picture of the black suited Spidey leaping across the night sky. It was a great shot. It was a great looking suit. And while it wasn't in keeping with her decision not to upset Peter any further until she had discovered the root of his problem, the idea of paying Mr. Parker a quick visit and seeing if this new suit was hanging up in his bedroom closet was a temptation that was hard to resist.

Why couldn't he have been wearing that last night? She wondered grumpily.

Knowing Mr. Parker's luck it had probably gotten damaged, or worse, Felicia mused, knowing first-hand the sheer amount of wear and tear that befell any costumed hero, or thief. Still, she hoped that Peter had kept the suit, or whatever was left of it, it would be a shame for such a flattering look to be gone forever.

Favoriting the news stories about the black suit for future reading, Felicia got back on task and continued treading along the website's timeline finding more and more headlines regarding the black suit and the usual heroics performed by Peter.

Taping one of her nails against the base of her laptop as she slowly came full circle to the present, Felicia began to wonder if she was on a fool's quest and that the reason for Spider-Man's attitude towards her last night was simply her own doing and that there was no other scapegoats she could look to for a possible explanation.

 **Spidey vs. Vulture.**

 **Spider-Man saved my cat. (I got pics)**

 **The Spider(Man) catches himself a Fly.**

Sighing in defeat, Felicia eyed her now lukewarm cup of coffee and decided that she would make herself a fresh one and call it a day.

An apology would have to be made it would seem, and while the idea had as much appeal as dancing barefoot over hot coals Felicia had deeply missed her favourite playmate and had come home wanting to start things afresh with Peter. If he would let her.

Their relationship to put it mildly was complicated.

Peter Parker was the heroic idealist in a world that didn't want him. Day after day he would risk his wellbeing in the pursuit of doing the right thing. Or as he so often quoted, with great power must come great responsibility. Chasing this ideology had led Peter into countless dangers and no win situations, and he had suffered for it, and yet he had still found the strength to don his mask and do it all over again the next day.

Unlike most 'good' people strutting around New York, Peter didn't take time offs or go on break or decide if something was beneath his attention or paygrade. He simply wasn't capable, not after what had happened with his uncle, the man who had been a father to Peter in all but name. No matter how rough things got, or how much the world would rally against him Peter Parker wouldn't throw in the towel.

He was a hero.

Plain and simple.

Felicia Hardy however was a criminal. A thief, so similar to so many of those that Spider-Man had made a career out of stopping, and while she could boast that as the Black Cat she had more class, wit, and style than all of the costumed criminals in Spidey's rogue gallery put together, the fact didn't change that Felicia had chosen to follow in her father's footsteps, despite his wishes, and become a cat burglar.

They played on opposite sides of the law. He was the good boy; she was the bad girl, the negative influence that had tried to coax Peter into her way of thinking, to ditch the heroics and live for himself. Somehow, amongst the back and forth banter they hurled, the veiled jokes and comments, the blood pumping chases and quick scuffles, the reverse had happened and Felicia Hardy had wound up playing hero for several months, and they had fun.

But despite finding a brand new purpose in her heroic actions, Felicia had never been able to shake the old habits, and had continued to take shiny and expensive trinkets that had caught her eye.

Even if she did apologise to Peter on her knees would he ever trust her again?

Could she trust herself?

Recalling her recent crime spree, dedicated to gaining Peter's attention, Felicia groaned in frustration as she realised that she would need to begin planning the headache inducing task of figuring out which of her stolen trinkets belonged where and begin returning them before she could attempt to talk to her sour little spider.

He was a lot of effort that Mr. Parker.

But it would be a lie to say he wasn't worth it. Most of the time.

Reaching for the cup of coffee, Felicia absently scrolled past a few more articles and stopped when an unfamiliar name caught her eye. Moving her hand away from the cup, the Black Cat did a double take and couldn't help but shake her head.

 **New menace in town. The Green Goblin strikes!**

There was a lot to unpack with a name like that. In a city full of criminals great and small, where everyone was in constant competition to not be swallowed up in the crowd and trying to stand out through the use of a gimmick, a gadget set or a teary eyed backstory, it took a special kind of person to call themselves the Green Goblin.

For a moment the Black Cat actually pitied the poor guy, wondering what kind of image they had created from themselves to try and fit in with the rest of the crazy criminal populace. With the word goblin in the name, Felicia could only picture pointy ears and a tweed outfit. Peter would have had a field day with that kind of joke material.

Time for coffee, she decided. A moment later and the piping hot drink and all its wonderful flavour were completely forgotten about.

 **Lucky Lobo murdered by the Green Goblin.**

 **Green Goblin puts local mob on the run.**

 **The Green Goblin vs. Spider-Man.**

 **Green Goblin destroys Maggia safe house.**

 **A city in terror. The Goblin breaks through Police escort.**

 **The Green Goblin vs. Spider-Man: Round 2.**

 **Where did this guy come from?**

 **R.I.P To our brave officers. The Goblin attacks NYPD headquarters.**

 **Eye witness report on Goblin attack.**

 **Mayor's office targeted by Pumpkin Heads.**

 **Can Spidey save us?**

 **Green Goblin slays new crime boss.**

And so it continued.

Checking the dates of when the news stories had been posted onto the site, Felicia realised in horror that this new menace had clawed his way to the top of New York's criminal underworld in mere days. Clicking on the articles, Black Cat quickly began playing catch up on the reign of terror the Goblin had inflicted upon the city.

Untouchable mob bosses were swiftly eliminated, fresh atrocities against the innocent where inflicted daily, and throughout all of this, there was Peter, donned in his new black suit trying his best to stop the madness.

Given the continuation of the articles baring the Goblin's name it was clear that he had failed.

"Peter." Felicia whispered.

A ghastly picture on one of the articles showed a familiar city street that looked like it had become part of a war zone. A brightly coloured tour bus had become a burnt out husk, half a dozen men, wearing orange jack-o'-lantern mask over their faces fired weapons in any and all directions destroying the surrounding neighbourhood and dead centre, standing atop of a flying mechanical bat was the Green Goblin, grinning away at the carnage unfolding around him.

So this is what Peter Parker had been dealing with while she had been pilfering prized painting from aging millionaires.

Closing her laptop, Felicia Hardy climbed off her bed, the now cold cup of coffee completely forgotten about. Stalking about her apartment, she fought against the wave of emotions that brewed within her.

Guilt. Anger. Self-loathing. Disgust. Horror. And a sense of utter disbelief. All of which began twisting around inside of her, making the Black Cat feel sick.

How could this have happened?

Even by New York standards the idea that one man in a goofy costume could somehow do so much damage in so little time seemed unbelievable.

The Maggia, the Police and the other crime families who had been dancing around each other for decades in a never ending battle of control had all but been wiped out in a matter of weeks by the Goblin. And Peter.

Peter had been on the front lines every minute of it, dealing with, well only he would actually knew what he had to fight against thanks to her absence and utter ignorance. But there could be no doubt it had been overwhelming.

Felicia found herself wondering just how many of those unanswered calls from her mother had been about the crisis happening at home. How for once Lydia Hardy would have been grateful that her daughter was away on an impromptu trip and far from the danger as things went from bad to worse.

The swirling tide of emotions became too much for Felicia to bear. Ceasing her pacing she moved towards the phone. She would talk to her mother, check that she was alright.

But she first wanted to speak to Peter.

No longer to apologise to him, but to ask him how things had been. To ask him if he was okay, not just physically but on the inside. Because the wall crawling hero would have taken every death, every injury an innocent suffered, as his own personal failure and would carry that guilt around with him until it became too much for him to bear and then he would have raced off and done something drastic.

Dialling his number Felicia cursed the seconds of silence as she waited for Peter to answer her. After almost two minutes of listening to the dial tone, the call was disconnected.

Refusing to be stopped at the first hurdle she tried several more times and each time gained the same result. Eventually Felicia had to concede that Peter was either ignoring her, that his phone was simply turned off or he was busy being Spider-Man.

It didn't really matter.

Throwing her phone down on her bed in frustration, Felicia's brain immediately settled on a new scheme. Go to his Aunt's house and wait for him to come back, he couldn't avoid her forever.

Rushing off into her walk in closet, she emerged dressed and ready to go in less than two minutes. Reaching for her favourite leather jacket, Felicia tried to block out the multiple scenarios her brain was eagerly painting of the violence, terror, and utter devastation that had been inflicted upon the streets of her home. And how she could have lessened the damage had she only been present.

It wasn't her responsibility; Felicia tried arguing to herself, she wasn't a hero.

She was a thief.

She stole things, she lived off the profit, and she only cared about herself.

It was a lie that even a child could have seen through and before she had reached her apartment door, the Black Cat had snarled and turned around in a fresh wave of frustration as she found the idea of simply waiting for Peter to return to be fruitless.

Right now she had to be doing something productive.

And before she talked to Peter again she wanted to be caught up on everything that she had missed.

Marching back into her walk in closet, Felicia ignored the racks of clothing and instead reached down and ran her hand over the floorboards. Beneath the varnished wood a scanner read her fingerprints which activated a mechanism. The floorboards parted aside revealing a small but sturdy safe.

Opening it, Felicia took a small wad of rolled up bills and slipped them into her jacket pocket. Closing the safe's door, the floorboards slid seamlessly back into place, leaving no visible indication that anything lurked beneath them.

Once more, the Black Cat moved towards the front door of her apartment.

She was going to get caught up on this Green Goblin character and all that he had to do with Spider-Man.

* * *

Today had been so close to being a good day that Peter Parker was determined to make it one. His list of potential donors for Doctor Connors was complete. Debra Whitman had proofread his proposal emails and had given it her seal of approval, a rare and hard won prize.

Now Peter was making sure that he was just as productive in the laboratory. If anyone needed a spare pair of hands, there he was, if something needed to be double checked he was your man. Yes, there had been some dubious glances from his fellow scientific assistances but Peter was doing his best to shake off his reputation as the lazy, unreliable, member of the team, and give Doctor Connors's work his complete attention.

If only the good doctor could see it.

Upon arriving this morning Curt Connors had shut himself away in his office without a word and hadn't emerged all day. The assistant body was worried and while all of them were smart enough to not verbally announce it, the concerned stares and nervous tip toing around their admired leader's office spoke volumes enough.

And Peter couldn't blame them.

Several times he caught himself moving towards Doctor Connor's door only to change direction and head over to cupboard or a workstation along the way.

He wanted to tell Curt that everything was going to be okay and that the problem weighing down upon him was about to become a lot lighter. But that wouldn't really be true.

Yes he, and Debra, had started the work necessary to begin helping Doctor Connors out of his predicament. But the emails hadn't been sent yet and until the potential investors responded all Peter could offer his friend and mentor was hope. He didn't want that. He wanted to give Curt the solution.

A clap of Debra's hands caught everyone's attention.

"Alright everyone good job today, please make sure that all data is saved and backed up. Rupert, could you please forward any calls from the Raft to either myself or Doctor Connors should they be so good as to get back to us about our next visit. Everyone else enjoy the rest of your day."

A pent up bubble was burst and the laboratory of Doctor Connors was filled with noise. Stools was scrapped across the floor, voices rose in volume, equipment was put away and plans and promises were made as one by one the scientific assistants made their way out of the room.

Soon only Debra Whitman, Rupert, the late night assistant, and Peter remained. Catching his intention by staying behind Debra made her way over to the wall crawler and they both moved out of earshot.

"Everything's ready." Peter said with a smile.

"Excellent, are you going to send them tonight?"

Peter agreed without even thinking about it. The countless promises, appointments and dates that had fallen through because of the unpredictable nature of his life didn't even factor into his decision. He was determined to help Doctor Connors.

The sound of a lock being turned ceased the conversation as Debra, Peter and Rupert all turned towards the good doctor's office. The door opened and Curt Connors emerged, looking rather unwell.

His skin was pale, almost bleached, his hair was unkempt and his entire movement spoke of exhaustion. The man had undergone a horrifying visual transformation from only a few short days ago.

It hurt Peter to see him like this.

Staring down at his shoes Curt Connors turned and locked his office door behind him with a trembling hand and then slowly made his way across the laboratory floor. He only discovered that he wasn't alone when Peter, Debra and Rupert all simultaneously began moving towards him.

"I-I'm sorry, I thought everyone had gone home for today." Curt said, embarrassed that he had been seen in his own place of work.

"Doctor Connors are you okay?" Debra asked out of politeness as the answer was as clear as day.

"No I'm, yes." The good doctor corrected himself sharply. "Sorry it's just a headache, I- I probably shouldn't have come in today." He waved his hand as if to ease his students concerns but the movement looked so stiff and animatronic that it only made the situation all the more dire. "I'm-, thank you all for today, yes. I am sorry I won't bother coming in tomorrow."

He began to shuffle towards the door, ignoring the way his former students, now colleagues, starred after him.

Peter wanted to offer some sort of condolence, a promise that everything was going to be alright. He also felt a sudden burning desire to dangle Miles Warren from the nearest rooftop.

Instead he and the others stood silently as Doctor Connors left the laboratory.

A gentle touch brought Peter out of the moment, looking down he saw that Debra had made contact with his arm and was looking up at him with a fierce expression. "We've got to help him."

Peter Parker nodded.

While he had other obligations, other responsibilities all of them in that moment came second place to Doctor Connors. The man was already dangerously close to the edge and Peter had seen too many good men fall to their demons to ignore Curt's plight.

He had to help him.

* * *

The mysterious Patch was the best information broker in all of New York. No matter how elusive the information, however random, however damming, Patch always seemed to overhear something from somewhere and it was nearly always true.

But Patch was also the ultimate nobody, he had no formal meeting spots, no offices, no favourite hangouts or contact information of any kind, the man was off the grid and lived, dressed and smelled like he slept rough on the streets. Finding him was never easy, but like so many things there was always someone who could point you in the right direction for the right price.

Staring down into the fountain's base, Patch had just finished rounding up the total worth of all the nickels, dimes, pennies and the other pieces of wished upon junk sitting at the bottom when he realised that someone was heading right for him.

With no time to run, Patch turned slowly towards the figure, his face an impassive mask that hid his trembling nerves. Unexpected visitors could so often be fatal when you traded in information. Upon seeing who it was, the one eyed man let out a silent breath of relief.

"You really need to get a cell phone." Felicia Hardy said with a small smile.

Patch just shook his head. "Don't trust them, all kinds of ways people can track one of those things nowadays."

"And there are plenty of ways to protect yourself from that."

"Takes too much money. Takes too much time. Not worth it." Patch argued. With nothing further to say on the matter, Felicia and Patch silently appraised the other for a moment. "So what is it that you need Kitty Cat?"

"Information," Patch made a noise of irritation with his tongue. "about the Green Goblin."

Whatever the one eyed man had expected this clearly wasn't it and his usual mask of neutrality slipped a little. Pressing the issue, not allowing Patch the time necessary to rebuild his mental defences, Felicia continued. "I need to know who, where and why."

Letting out a short breath Patch looked away from the platinum haired woman and surveyed their surroundings. The small park they stood in was alive with people, some were just passing through, others would stop to enjoy the greenery, let their children play, sit down on one of the parks benches and pull out their phones, or do one of countless other activities. Patch stared hard for a moment as if looking for someone in particular, then he turned back to Felicia.

"Let's take a walk." he muttered.

Not objecting Felicia fell into step with the information broker. He led them out of the park and onto the busy streets. After a minute of silence Patch spoke.

"I don't know much." He admitted.

"Well I want to know everything you do know."

"Money?" Felicia's hand slipped into her jacket and for a brief second she flashed the roll of bills she carried. Patch nodded. "Who, I can't answer. No one knows anything about this guy, who he is, where he comes from. I've tried my best to find out. Half of New York was digging around and no one ever came up with any real leads. It was all gossip, blind accusations or wild theories that never held any weight."

"A bastard of mystery." Felicia said. Patch coughed loudly or it might have been a bark of laughter breaking through his stone faced façade.

"Yeah. Guy was a total enigma."

Slipping around a group of people who had suddenly ceased walking, Felicia and Patch walked independently from each other for a few brief seconds before they were able to fall back into step with each other. "Do you know where he is?" She asked.

"Nope."

Felicia struggled to believe it. Patch knew everything. From what dessert a mob boss ordered last night, to where the local traffic cop liked to purchase his socks. No information seemed to escape him and yet here he was turning up blanks.

"Guy was never arrested, although your boyfriend sure did try." Felicia chose to ignore that comment. "But he's gone now, how long that lasts I don't know."

"Please tell me you know why he was doing all of this."

"Oh yeah." Patch nodded. "That one's easy. Power."

Silently prompting him for more information with a raised eyebrow, Patch took in a lungful of air and began talking, his voice becoming the only sound in the city that mattered to Felicia. "The Green Goblin just showed up out of nowhere one day and began targeting the local mobs, the little guys, telling them to join up with him or be destroyed. No one took him seriously; I mean the guy was a no named joker in a costume, no rep, no credibility. Who was going to join up with that?"

"He gave them a deadline and they all laughed, when the time was up the Goblin hit them all, hard and fast, he had weapons Kitty Cat, top end stuff that tore through those mobsters in minutes, all those that had rejected his offer were dead within the hour. And from there he just kept climbing the ladder, going bigger and bigger."

"Silvermane and the Maggia refused to budge, that inspired the other big boys and they all decided to stand firm, the Goblin tried a similar stunt but they were ready for him, drove him off and that's when he began going public. Built up his own force, called themselves the Pumpkin heads, they took to the streets and pulled the rug right out from under everybody. Cops couldn't stop him, the Maggia interests kept getting hit and old Silvermane looked completely ineffective, which brought out the ambition in some of his subordinates, there was a coup to overthrow him. It didn't work. It all turned into a city wide fight for control and the Goblin was orchestrating everything. No one was safe, anything and anyone could become a target and no one ever had a clue as to who was really behind it all."

Patch sighed. "If it wasn't for Spider-Man I think every crime faction in the city would be under the Goblin's rule and we'd have one heck of a mess on our hands."

Felicia processed all of this silently, there was of course a lot of facts missing but Patch had at least given her some insight on what the Goblin was after, like so many other supervillains he clearly coveted the infamous big man of crime title and appeared to have come very close to claiming it.

"So what happened to him Patch? Where did the Goblin go?"

"No idea, one day he looked like he was going to come out on top, Silvermane was on the ropes, Hammerhead had skipped town, and Man Mountain Marko was six feet under, but the next day he just vanished, the attacks, the violence, all of it just stopped and no one's seen him since, but." He paused and stared directly at Felicia, "This is just a theory mind you, but I think I have an idea on why he up and left the playground."

A theory wasn't solid information, but Patch didn't fabricate nonsense out of nothing, if he thought he had something Felicia was willing to listen. Coming to a crossing the conversation ceased as they, and two dozen other New Yorkers, waited for the traffic lights to change.

While Felicia kept looking dead ahead, Patch took a slow glance around at the group of people they had merged into. If he was anyone else, he might have appeared paranoid, but old Patch had given out plenty of tips over the years and a few had landed some pretty big names in a lot of trouble.

As long as he remained a man of mystery living an existence no one knew too much about he was safe. But in New York you could happen to walk past anyone and Patch never seemed to lower his guard.

The traffic light turned red and as one the crowd of people began to cross the road.

"The Green Goblin burst onto the scene with state of the art weapons, gadgets, and body armour, the kind of stuff Uncle Sam would sell his front teeth to get his hands on. Despite coming out of nowhere this guy, whoever he is, clearly had someone with deep pockets backing his play."

"Now as this war for control continued, the Goblin kept showing off that he had toys to spare, Spider-Man once destroyed that glider thing of his in Times Square and yet five minutes later a brand new one comes racing in, full armed and ready to go. And that got me thinking, just who in this city could afford toys like that in bulk? The only real answer would be one of the crime bosses and that didn't hold water given that the Goblin was happily slaughtering them indiscriminately."

Patch paused and scratched his nose. "Then Osborn died and things started falling into place."

Felicia stopped walking. "Norman Osborn is dead?"

Patch looked surprised for a moment. "You really have been out of town a while."

Letting out a huff of air in frustration, Felicia promised herself that she would speak to her mother the moment she was done patching things up with Peter. Falling back into step with Patch, the one eyed man continued.

"So Osborn died the exact same night the Goblin vanished and at first I didn't think too much about it, just a wild coincidence, until an old pal of mine on the force told me how it was done. The exact same way as Man Mountain Marko bit the bullet. Old Norman got impaled by the Goblin's glider."

"Sounds pleasant." Felicia muttered, not surprised that she couldn't generate sympathy for the man. Oscorp and the Hardy foundation had a history and while the two organisations appeared to still have a good relationship, at least in the public's eye, Lydia Hardy had spent more than one late night ranting about Norman's increasing collection of flaws. The man had always been slimy, as clean as a sewer rat and just as trustworthy as her mother liked to say.

"It's a pretty special way to go, and it made me wonder why Osborn would get that treatment over say something simple like a pumpkin bomb. But then it hit me, Oscorp was in the weapons business, trying to lead the way in the next era of warfare. But it never took off and they lost billions, it almost destroyed them."

"So you think Norman sold his stuff under the table to some lunatic, all to square his accounts?" Felicia asked.

"It sounds stupid, but all the damage that the Goblin created across the city needed to be cleaned up and I'll give you a hint on who won that bid."

"Oscorp." Felicia said, seeing where Patch was going.

"Yep. Suddenly Norman's a hero, fixing up the city, while lining his pockets. As a bonus he's able to buy damaged property cheap and start construction on Oscorp owned buildings of varying natures. If anyone was coming out of this ahead it was him."

"So why would the Goblin kill him?"

"It's just a theory. Maybe the Goblin wanted more and Osborn said no. Maybe Osborn had been blackmailing the Goblin and the puppet decided to cut his strings. There could be a million reasons." Patch shrugged. "Or maybe I'm just barking up the wrong tree entirely. All I know is the moment Osborn kicked the bucket, the Goblin vanishes."

Felicia's disappointment couldn't have been any clearer and the one eyed man looked apologetic. "Sorry I don't have anything more for you."

Most of the supervillains that operated within New York had no secret identity. While some like Doctor Octopus had made sure that both their moniker and real name were known and feared alike, others like Maxwell Dillon preferred to be known only by their supervillain name. Regardless within a few days of their first big public outing the Bugle would have a several page summary, explaining to all who the new costumed crook was, what they could do, and how Spider-Man was either in cahoots with them, or how the wall crawler had somehow profited from their downfall.

Which only made the Green Goblin all the more dangerous, with his true identity a mystery, he could be anyone, living a seemingly ordinary life and waiting for the perfect moment to re-emerge and reek chaos and destruction across the city once again.

"You've given me a start Patch." Felicia said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "Thank you."

Coming to a stop, she fished the roll of bills out of her pocket and silently handed them to the information broker. Not bothering to count the amount Patch slipped the payment into his own pocket. "You're really going to try and hunt the Goblin down?" He asked, his voice low so as not to attract the attention of the countless New Yorkers walking by.

"I'll be sure to tell you any juicy secrets I find out along the way." Felicia promised. Their business concluded, she offered the one eyed man a quick nod and then turned and began to walk away.

"Good luck Kitty Cat. You'll need it." Patch muttered to himself before walking in the opposite direction, within seconds he had been swallowed up in the endless bustle of people and vanished from sight.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, please leave any feedback you have to help me improve my writing or suggestions for the fic. A nice word also doesn't hurt.**


	7. Late night plans

Peter Parker stared at the last of the soapy plates sitting on the kitchen draining board and realised that his staling was almost at an end. The proposals were all ready to go. Over fifty of Empire State's most generous scientific donor's email addresses were typed up as recipients, giving Doctor Curt Connors the best possible chance at getting the money and the surge of confidence he so desperately needed in order to lick this problem and get out from under Miles Warren's thumb, and all it required from Peter was to travel up a single flight of stairs, enter his bedroom and click on the little send button sitting in the top left corner of his computer screen.

Reaching out the wall crawling hero picked up the final plate and gave it a quick once over with his tea towel. Both of Doctor Connors's projects and their ultimate goals had been perfectly laid out and any faults in the wording had been caught by either himself or Debra Whitman. Turning the plate over Peter wiped away at a last defiant cluster of bubbles.

He had promised that he would get those emails sent tonight. But a sliver of doubt had wormed its way into his mind before dinner and now all Peter could think about was that perhaps he was being impetuous. His credits in life were that of being a super hero and a scientist, not an English major. His emails had been written in an early morning rush, or had it been during the late hours of last night?

Giving the plate a final inspection, Peter began rubbing at a non-existent speck of dirt. Buying himself precious seconds as he continued his internal debate.

Who knows how unprofessional his work might look? A single error, unnoticed by either himself or Debra might instantly cause his words to be dismissed. When the ESU called upon donors for projects they took weeks to prepare themselves, not mere hours. In a single blunder Peter could end up severing any hope Doctor Connors had of getting help. Perhaps it would be best to give it a few more days, let him check and then recheck before he sealed his friend and mentor's fate.

But then Peter remembered how defeated Curt Connors had looked that afternoon. He couldn't let the Doc just carry on like this, his dreams, his life were all being taken away from him. Peter had to help. He would.

Just after one final editing session with the emails.

A gentle laugh from the kitchen doorway brought the young man out from his circling thoughts and back into the real world. "Keep rubbing at that plate and it will soon be see-through." May Parker said.

"Sorry. I guess I was-"

"You are staling Peter Parker." May smiled as she took the plate from her nephew and placed it in the cupboard. "Now stop it and get to work."

"It's almost ready, just give me another hour." Peter began but May cut through his procrastination with a wave of her hand.

"It's about as perfect as it will ever be dear. You know that."

Pushing him out of the kitchen and towards the stairs, May watched the young man jog up them. Before he ascended the final step, Peter paused and turned back to face her. "Perhaps I can give Robbie a quick call; he could take a look at them."

"Perhaps Mr. Owens down the street would also like to offer his opinion on it." May suggested pointing towards the east. "You've done a wonderful thing Peter don't let some last minute doubt stop you now."

Nodding to his aunt, Peter entered his bedroom and sat down at his desk. Placing his hand on the mouse, his computer returned to life and presented him the emails. His cursor hovered next to the send button.

Taking a deep breath, hoping that he hadn't left some deal breaking mistake amongst his heartfelt messages, Peter Parker moved his mouse, directing his cursor over the send button. This was it.

His phone vibrated.

Relief flooded through him at the opportunity to put off this momentous decision for a few seconds longer. Pulling the phone from his pocket, Peter unlocked it and stared at the screen. He had received a new message.

And so he opened it.

 **We need to talk.**

 **Felicia.**

Peter stared at his phone for several long seconds, baffled at what he had just read.

What was there to talk about? What did that even mean? We need to talk? Like they hadn't said all that needed to be said last night.

Putting his phone down onto his desk, Peter returned his focus onto his computer screen. The cursor still sat over the send button.

"We need to talk." He muttered to himself. He looked back down to the phone. Did she mean now? No, she probably wanted to set something up. Like a date. Except not like a date at all because Peter Parker wasn't going to be sucked back into her little games.

He was too busy to be chasing after her again, there was just so many problems mounting up and she wasn't going to become another.

His finger clicked down on his mouse.

Picking up the phone with a sigh born from self-disgust at his own weakness, Peter held it for a few seconds reading the four word message over and over again. Trying to figure out if there was some hidden meaning that he had managed to overlook. She was probably sitting at home now waiting for an answer, unless of course Felicia was out on the prowl and was just baiting him to come chase her.

Well that wasn't going to happen. He had other responsibilities that demanded his attention. He had given her his ultimatum last night and he planned to stand by it.

The phone was once again placed back down upon the desk and Peter returned his focus onto the computer screen. He had work to do.

 **Emails sent.** A small message read in the centre of the screen.

Peter Parker blinked in confusion. He hadn't sent those yet. Looking down at his right hand sitting on the mouse, his mind skipped back a few short seconds and he recalled the slight pressure of his index finger as it had pushed down against the button.

"Oh no." Peter groaned. Leaning back into his chair the young man covered his face with his hands. "Wonderful."

Well. That was that.

"The dice has been rolled son, all we can do now is see where it lands." Uncle Ben's words echoed in his mind. Peter removed his hands and let his arms hang loose by his sides as he smiled back on that treasured memory.

Standing up, Peter began to close his computer down for the night. The emails were gone and even if he wanted to recall them there was little he could do to improve them at this late hour. It was out of his hands now and in a few short days Peter would hopefully get some responses. In the meantime he had plenty of other problems with which to occupy his time. Speaking of which.

Moving towards his laundry basket, Peter picked his red and blue costume up off the top of the pile and carried it downstairs.

"Sent them yet?" May Parker called from the living room as her nephew walked past.

"Yes Aunt May." Peter replied dutifully with a little smile. It wasn't so bad. In fact he felt a strange sense of relief now that he'd said it aloud.

Who knows, perhaps this was for the best.

Entering the kitchen, Peter put his costume into the washing machine. Nothing made web swinging quite as enjoyable as a freshly cleaned and lime scented Spidey suit.

"Make sure it's on the right temperature dear, otherwise it will shrink again."

"I know, I know." Peter called back, remembering the unfortunate incident almost five years ago when his costume had shrunk due to his negligence with the washing machine, becoming both a tight and misshapen mess that cut off circulation in his limbs but felt like he had been wearing three sizes too big across the chest, resulting in a hideous look that Jameson and the Daily Bugle had been all too eager to print across every headline, shaming the wall crawlers wardrobe malfunction. It had taken Peter exactly three days to bin the old suit and spend precious money on buying a fancy dress version of his own costume whilst he began working on a proper replacement.

Boy, he actually missed the days when being hounded by the Daily Bugle was the worst thing to happen to him.

With a start the washing machine slowly came to life and as the brightly coloured costume became a red and blue spinning blur, Peter returned to his bedroom.

Immediately he was drawn to the phone waiting for him on his aging desk.

"We need to talk." He said aloud.

Shaking his head Peter instructed himself to ignore Felicia's message.

Why let himself be dragged back into a song and dance that he had already suffered through when he could focus on his actual problems?

After all, things had just taken a good turn. One problem, or at least as far as he could control, was sorted. Doctor Connors would either get the help that he needed or… well; Peter would cross that metaphorical bridge when it arrived.

But for now he could focus on hunting down the Goblin, something that he hadn't made much progress on. If there was even a threat to find, he reminded himself. It could all just be his paranoid mind jumping at some left over pumpkin bombs and a liar spreading misinformation in order to wind up Spider-Man.

Norman Osborn is dead. Peter told himself, repeating the words in his mind as if they were a mantra. Norman Osborn is dead.

And there was of course Harry. He couldn't forget about him.

Sighing Peter realised to his shame that he had actually forgotten all about that particular dilemma and thus had made no mental headway in thinking up a story to tell Harry about his father's demise. Until he got closure Harry would forever be haunted by what he had seen that night in Norman's study, and while there was no easy way to approach this particular hurdle, Peter owed it to his friend to at least try.

His thumb brushed over the keypad of the phone, bringing the screen back to life and displaying Felicia's message to him.

He shouldn't.

Walking over to his bed, Peter collapsed down onto it and continued staring at the phone. There were plenty of other things he needed to focus on right now. Too many things. Closing his eyes the wall crawler tried to remove the thought of Felicia from his mind, instead he could feel her clawed fingertips start to lazily draw patterns on his back, just as she did whenever they sat somewhere too long and she began to grow mischievous. He then remembered her laughter, a soft genuine sound that she tried to cover up when one of his many jokes or wisecracks actually landed. The moment would often lead to teasing from him, which Felicia would quickly rebuke and claim it was only out of pity that she laughed at his attempts at humour, but they both knew the truth.

And even though he continued to lie completely still, Peter could almost taste the surge of heart pumping adrenaline coursing through his veins just as it did when they raced across the moonlit city rooftops, battling it out for the lead, not caring where they went or who happened to cross their paths. As Spider-Man, Peter could claim to have seen, felt and experienced a plethora of amazing things but somehow amongst all the weird and the wondrous the Black Cat would always claw her way up the rankings and leave him in total awe.

She really was incredible.

His fingers began moving across the phone's keypad in response.

He really, really shouldn't.

* * *

Felicia Hardy raised the cheap bottle of cleaning spray and pulled the trigger. Several squirts of the anti-germ and bacteria liquid now soaked her bright yellow dust cloth which she then used to wipe down the seventh and final workstation inside of laboratory twenty-two of Oscorp Tower.

The constant blinking of the red lights on all four of the security cameras sitting in each corner of the laboratory must have been very comforting for the staff that worked here, Felicia thought to herself as she gave the workstation a final wipe before she began packing her equipment back onto the cleaning kart.

Every second of every day was being openly recorded. And not just here in the laboratory, but all over the building in every corridor, work cubicle and lunchroom hall there were dozens of the black spherical cameras that captured every private word, every sneeze, every joke, every whispered interaction, every scowl and every shifty look which the billion dollar cooperate giant then stored safely away for potential future use against its employees.

Big brother was watching.

Slipping behind her cleaning kart, Felicia began to wheel the cumbersome thing out of the laboratory, aware that her every movement was being carefully documented, for all the good it would do them.

Her usually striking platinum blonde hair was covered by a dirty red wig that would have fooled a team of keen eyed detectives. The ugly, loose fitting, dark blue denim jumpsuit she wore hid her internet famous curves and thanks to her constant chewing on a well-worn piece of bubble gum her most distinguishing feature to any interested party would be the small pink balloon she occasionally created that helped to cover up even more of her face along with the thick rimmed glasses she remembered to push up her nose in-between regular intervals.

All of this allowed her to blend in perfectly with the two dozen or so other underpaid night time janitors wandering the many levels of Oscorp Tower. The Black Cat was completely inconspicuous and thus free to roam the halls as she pleased.

Exiting laboratory twenty-two, Felicia continued on down the empty grey carpeted corridor and began picking out the several mechanical eyes that were recording her journey. At the end of the corridor, next to the elevator, was the office of the lead scientist whose computer was the main target of tonight's little expedition.

Bringing her cleaning kart to a halt next to the female staff toilets, Felicia once again retrieved her assortment of cleaning gear, pulled open the bathroom door and stepped out of sight of the cameras. Even a billion dollar giant such as Oscorp couldn't risk the scandal of spying on their staff in the restroom, allowing Felicia Hardy a few moments of privacy.

Dumping her cleaning gear onto the sink worktop, Felicia then took of her glasses and stored them safely in one her of jumpsuits many pockets, spat out the well-used piece of gum and with perfect aim threw it into the trashcan. With all that taken care off, the Black Cat braced herself with both arms against the solid surface of the worktop, closed her eyes and concentrated.

The ability to manipulate probability fields, or to put it simply the power of bad luck, was the Black Cat's secret weapon. Powerful, dangerous, and often unpredictable, Felicia Hardy had found her strange ability to be a double edged sword that she could rarely employ in the fast and chaotic nature of combat, without risking harm onto herself or innocents.

Like so many things in her life, Felicia had put the time and effort into mastering her power, and while it still required a great amount of focus in order for her to direct where the bad luck would strike, she had found it to be in invaluable tool in her arsenal. All the high tech security defences in the world couldn't protect themselves from a surgical strike of misfortune.

From shorting out a light bulb to causing blackouts that could sweep an entire city block, Felicia Hardy could quickly even almost any playing field if given the opportunity.

A small ache started to form inside of her skull but the Black Cat's focus didn't waver. Balling her hands into fists, she clenched her jaw and continued to utilize her gift. Just a few seconds more.

* * *

Inside the main security hub located on the eighteenth floor, security personnel Lucas Brown and Audrey Bancroft stared at thirty-eight monitors fixed on a rotating loop displaying the sights and sounds captured by the several thousand security cameras placed throughout the building. Neither said anything as the endless loop showed them that they were in for the same kind of night as they had experienced all of their careers. Oscorp Tower was a nigh impenetrable fortress, built from the ground up to service Norman Osborn's ego, where the staff couldn't so much as steal a paperclip without it being caught on tape and no one had ever tried something as stupid as actually attempting to break into the building, or out.

Scratching the stubble on his chin, Lucas suppressed a yawn as he watched with increasing mental numbness the never ending shuffle of footage presented to him. Fifteen-A where everything was A-Okay. Laboratory four, as quiet as a tomb. Elevator C was in use by one of the janitors. Eleven-B, deserted.

Sparing a glance at his wrist watch Lucas inwardly groaned as he realised he still had almost seven hours to endure before it was time for him to clock out.

"What was that?" His partner asked sitting up in her chair.

"What was what?" Lucas replied his eyes still glued to his watch.

Audrey had begun fiddling with the camera controls and was cycling back through the loop. Looking up Lucas Brown watched as monitor eight displayed familiar locations without incident only to then turn black, displaying nothing.

"What the hell?" He sat up. "Did you break it?"

"No the camera's gone dead, look." She pointed at the dark monitor. "This is meant to be showing us corridor E on the thirteenth floor and what we've got is noth-" Audrey was cut off when several more of the monitors went dark only to lighten up again when they switched to a new camera's feed. "Something's happening."

Lucas starred at her for a second, uncertainty creeping in his voice. "Like, we're being hit by something? Are we compromised?"

"I don't know I just need a minute here." Her tone grew irritated as she tapped a few keys on the main console but her efforts to restore Oscorp's eyes was proving to be fruitless as even more monitors displayed fresh dead feeds in their loop cycles.

"Shouldn't we raise the alarm?"

"The power's still flowing so it's not that at least." Audrey spoke, ignoring the question. "All outside cameras are still live and nothing else is being flagged up. Electric doors, ventilation scanners, and laser grids are all still green so it has to be-"

The entire room went dark for a second, before power restored light to the security hub. All the monitors sprang back to life but now instead of displaying a live feed from the cameras each one was now a blue screen with a single white message floating in its centre.

 **System crash. To reboot press any key.**

* * *

The moment she hit the security server with a taste of bad luck, Felicia Hardy moved like lightning, despite the ache in her head. Cameras were going down left, right, and centre and in moments all of Oscorp's eyes would go blind. But it wouldn't last forever. Timing was going to be everything.

Racing to the office door, Felicia fell onto one knee. From out of the breast pocket the cat burglar produced several thin, delicate wire tools and began to insert them into the card lock. Eleven seconds later and the door buzzed open.

Slipping inside, the Black Cat silently closed the door behind her. Counting down in her head, she wasted no time in crossing the room and moved behind the owner's desk. Sitting down on the floor, Felicia crossed her leg and removed the grubby trainer from her left foot. Reaching inside she pulled out the sole of the shoe and then its secret cargo.

A small but powerful hacking device, programmed to extract any and all files relating to Oscorp's weapons divisions. In seconds Felicia had connected it to the office desktop and a small display informed her that it had started to raid the Oscorp network. Now all the Black Cat could do was wait.

Slipping the sole back into the trainer, Felicia returned the shoe to her foot and then pulled out her phone. To fit in with the rest of her disguise it was not the usual high tech gadget that she normally would wield but an older and less flashy device. But it still served a purpose.

Having sent a message to Peter just before she had entered laboratory twenty-two, Felicia was curious to see if he had replied.

So far he hadn't.

Tapping a nail against the phone's screen Felicia eyed her devices progress. She had an estimated twelve and a half minutes to kill. Not good. The security camera network might be back on by then, and slipping out of a restricted, and locked, office would alert even the most junior of rookies that something was amiss. The Black Cat pondered if another case of bad luck might be needed as she played with her phone.

Too prideful to send Peter another message, Felicia slowly stood up and took a look around the laboratory leader's office. If there were any personalised items in the room that might have given her insight into its owner's personality, she couldn't see them.

Like so much of Oscorp that she had witnessed everything present was sterile and soulless. There were no pictures of family or friends sitting on the desk, in cute and decorative frames. No little nick knack's that displayed some level of humanity or personal interests. Felicia carefully spread the window blinds and shook her head. There wasn't even a dead potted plant sitting on the windowsill.

Join Oscorp, surrender one's individuality and remember, big brother is always watching.

The phone resting in her hand vibrated softly. Bringing it up to read her new message, Felicia's face was lit up by a genuine smile.

 **Sure. Where?**

"Why Spider you do care." She said triumphantly.

 **Tomorrow. Usual place. Nine, thirty.**

Sending her reply, Felicia Hardy returned to her work with a spring in her step.

The download was still taking its sweet time and while it would take several gruelling minutes for Oscorp's cameras to return to life Felicia knew it was going to be a very close thing. Planning out her next potential move, the Black Cat decided that if it became necessary to hit the security systems once again with a little bad luck she would aim for a laboratory on one of the lower levels, perhaps triggering a fire alarm, drawing attention away from herself. The risk however was that the new alert might cause one of the security boys to get suspicious and put Oscorp Tower in a lockdown resulting in more work for her, which was hardly ideal. For the moment the Black Cat was content on sitting tight and letting things play out before she committed herself to a new course of action.

Then the neutral green screen of her little toy became a bright red.

"Crap." Felicia cursed. Pushing the desk chair aside, she bent down and picked the device up and saw its little warning, the download of Oscorp's many, many weapon's files was still continuing but her theft had been noticed by someone or something, meaning that Oscorp was probably going to have a timestamp of when she had been plundering their secrets.

This combined with the timing of the mysterious fault in their security camera network was sure to alert them that Oscorp Tower had been broken into. But that didn't matter in the long run. As long as Felicia got what she wanted and left without any fuss Oscorp was welcome to launch an investigation into what had happened. They would be chasing their tails for weeks before they got a solid lead and by then, well. Felicia was picturing herself enjoying a fresh relationship with her favourite playmate.

After they had bagged themselves the Green Goblin and put to rest any past misdemeanours, of course.

Nine minutes to go, the countdown continued.

* * *

"How's it looking?" Lucas Brown asked, eyeing the large red button on his security console that when pushed would summon half of New York's finest to Oscorp Tower in a matter of minutes all while knowing in his heart of hearts that the night's brief tint of excitement was almost over and that as things continued along, and with nothing else out of the ordinary happening, it appeared less and less as if there had been any sort of cyber-attack or break in at Oscorp Tower and more likely that a simple error or glitch had caused the security cameras to go down for a few minutes.

The monotony of the shift would return in full force once the update and reboot procedure was finished. Checking one of the thirty-eight monitors Lucas saw that they were now seventy-three percent complete with their update. And while the entire process had been nail bitingly slow there was little he could do but continue to eye their progress as his partner continued to dash around the Tower, checking in with the other security guards wandering the various floors and finding out in person what he could have told her from the comfort of their security hub, that everything was as dull and boring as it had been the previous evening and that everything in Oscorp Tower continued to work as normal.

"Laser grid three is still working and they've not reported any power irregularities in the last forty-eight hours." Audrey replied, sounding as disappointed as Lucas felt.

"Are you coming back now?" He asked, watching as a tiny step in progress was made and the reboot procedure for their security cameras now sat at seventy-four percent complete.

There was a defeated sigh and then, "Yeah, I'm on my way back now."

The excitement was now officially over.

Taking his thumb off the talk button on his radio, Lucas Brown ended the call between him and his partner and leaned back in his chair.

It was childish really but the thought of encountering a team of international thieves, here to plunder the science and wonders of Oscorp Tower was a fantasy Lucas believed that most of his fellow security guards must have had at one point or another.

Of course in New York the criminal element was very different and there were very few of the infamous Supervillains who used stealth and cunning when committing a theft. Most simply had the power to smash their way in, take whatever they wanted, and then charge on out again.

Oh well.

Perhaps tomorrow might be the night that something exciting happens Lucas mused as he returned to his duty of watching the progression bar slowly fill on the monitors.

* * *

Felicia Hardy was poised to rip her hacking device from the desktop the second it finished its download. She had less than forty seconds left until its task was complete and a minute at best before Oscorp's cameras returned to life. It was going to be a very close thing. But the prospect of screaming alarms and the shouting of security guards didn't frighten her in the least. In fact the Black Cat was almost shaking with excitement.

It had been a long time since she had played such a high stake game and she was loving every second of it.

Three. Two. One. **Download complete.**

Pulling the device free, Felicia leaped over the office desk and raced towards the door. Opening it, she had less than a second to survey her surroundings and make sure she wasn't about to run head first into the night patrol.

All clear.

With no time to return her toy back into her shoe Felicia simply stuffed it into one of the dozen or so pockets that she had on the ugly jumpsuit and continued her dash towards the cleaning kart.

Reaching it with seconds to spare, she stole a quick glance towards the nearest of the black spherical cameras and saw that the red blinking light behind its glass was still dead. Patting herself down, Felicia found the pair of glasses and quickly returned them onto her face, completing her disguise. Then, pushing the cleaning kart towards the elevator Felicia decided that it was clocking out time.

She'd gotten what she needed. If Patch's theory was correct and the Green Goblin and Osborn had been in some sort of partnership then the first place she wanted to start checking out was the various Oscorp owned warehouses, safe houses and secret hidey holes that Norman Osborn had scattered throughout, and under, the city.

It would take time, someone as big as Norman Osborn didn't get to where he was, or rather had been, by being careless and leaving things lying around, but as certain as Felicia was that she looked good in form fitting leather, she was sure that Osborn would have some sort of fail-safe in place for a partner as dangerous as the Green Goblin.

It wasn't difficult to imagine that Norman was the type of man to record his private meetings and dirty deals with the intent of blackmail or to help keep his shady partners in line. And with a character as ruthless as the Green Goblin only a fool would have mutual trust as the groundwork for such a relationship. Right now, Felicia hoped that Osborn had done his homework and made a tell all file on the Goblin, revealing all kinds of sensitive information, including his true identity.

Of course there was the problem of if Osborn did have this magical fail-safe why hadn't he used it on the night the Goblin had killed him? Perhaps Norman hadn't had it close at hand and hadn't been able to convince the Green Goblin that it was real. Maybe he had been to self-assured and not revealed its existence until it was too late, or worse yet was the idea that the Green Goblin simply hadn't cared and gutted Osborn anyway.

Either way, come tomorrow morning she was going to recruit Peter into kicking down some of Osborn's hidden doors and getting things back to how they were.

The elevator in front of her then dinged and its two stainless steel doors slid open, pausing in step Felicia Hardy watched as a security guard marched out, the woman was busy talking into her radio, not giving the member of the cleaning staff a second glance.

"I want a full systems check." Audrey said, speaking in a tone that would allow for no argument. "Check then recheck, if someone tried to hit us I want to isolate it before sunrise. No I don't think I am being over dramatic." Audrey snapped as Felicia slipped inside the elevator and hit the button for floor three.

"Somethings telling me that this was important so I need you to get off your ass and help me figure this out or so help me-"

The rest of the conversation was cut short as the doors closed and Felicia Hardy rode the elevator silently down towards her exit all while wearing a small smug smile.

* * *

Beneath the grand and awe-inspiring Oscorp Tower was an often forgotten about basement. With several large levels, each furnished to serve a different function for the company's many interests it would have shocked many an outsider to have learnt that such valuable space and resources had been left to rot, forgotten about by a majority of those employed within the Tower.

Laboratories, filled with high tech scientific equipment sat untouched, collecting only dust. Once stylish presentation rooms, meant to show off the latest wonders from the company had slowly been converted into dumping grounds by the employees, ranging from top level executives to janitors who just needed a place to store a large cabinet or a wonky desk.

And below all of this, on the lowest level of Oscorp Tower, was an area officially labelled on the blueprints as office space, the kind that would typically house hundreds of Oscorp drones, confined in small cubicles from nine to five every working weekday. But should anyone descend the numerous flights of stairs to get to this level of the building, for there was no working elevator that would take someone down there without a special key, they would have thought the entire floor had been designed by a madman.

Which of course it had been. Norman Osborn had meticulously crafted this level to be like a labyrinth, with twisting and winding corridors, with doors that would open to reveal a smooth wall face or not even open in the first place, pathways that would take someone on a complete loop of the floor, or lead them down a sudden dead end. To add to the confusion, only a dozen of the overhead lights worked, coating the abandoned level in almost complete darkness.

Only Norman and a select few knew how to glide through this dark maze and find the few secrets hidden within. But upon his death these had all been swiftly removed, eliminating any need for anyone to ever again travel down to this bewildering level.

And that's why it made for the perfect hiding place. For hidden deep within this labyrinth was one Harold 'Roman' Lexington.

Once upon a time Roman had been an employee of Oscorp, the kind who would have sat in a cubicle all day, completing mundane tasks and going rather unnoticed by the company, just another unit in an army of faceless men and women. But then one day, he'd gotten noticed.

His talents with computers, with coding, the innate ability he possessed in understanding systems on a level that his boss, and his boss, and even the man above them couldn't even begin to comprehend had finally been appreciated.

Nothing came of it at first. Just a word of praise here followed by a dismissive hand wave and then Roman was back in his cubicle, doing the same thing he had done for the previous three years of his time at Oscorp.

But then an opportunity came. A blunder from a systems analyst higher up in the food chain had caused a problem and rather than let the issue slide and risk it coming back to bite him later, Roman's floor manager had come to him to fix it. And just like that Roman had become important, someone of worth. And so it continued.

A nod of appreciation here for a job well done, a quick word from the floor manager asking him if he could come and take a look at something later, a brief "thank you" and "keep up the good work" from someone of significance in his department. It was all looking so wonderful for Roman.

He could see himself rising up from the confines of his little cubicle and begin climbing the company ladder, a dream that hadn't seemed plausible only five months earlier.

Throwing himself into his work and any opportunities that came his way, Roman was determined to show everyone at Oscorp just what he could do.

And he had.

And that had been his undoing.

His desk had been cleared out and less than a day later a new face was sitting there in Roman's chair, typing away on Roman's old keyboard, completing the assignments that Roman would have received had he still worked for Oscorp.

Much like the mythological figure Icarus, Harold Lexington had flown too close to the sun, and had been brought crashing down to earth. And now, his life, his existence, was confined to the basement of his former employee. Tapping away at a keyboard in service to the one being who knew he still existed.

It was a funny old world. Roman mused not for the first time as he finished looking back on his past and instead focused on the future, a future that might not happen if he didn't produce some results and soon.

A ping, and a program he had been running finished its work and a fresh window of data appeared on his screen. Enlarging it, Roman's brain began to read the information like a musician reads music sheets and in seconds his fingers were racing across the keyboard typing in new lines of code.

As soul sucking as it was, hiding like a rat within the forgotten depths of Oscorp, Roman appreciated the stillness and silence of his world. He was free from distraction down here. Before he had been surrounded by more than a hundred people, confined to a tiny little cubicle, and forced to listen to each and every one of his fellows, breath, moan, groan, curse, sniff, cough, burp, whisper, tap, click, double click, laugh, slouch, creak and...

Roman ceased typing and raised his hands off the keyboard.

Annoyances.

Each and every one of them.

But that life was gone. Here he was sitting in a spacious floor manager's office, a position he might have one day held had his genius not taken him to close to the sun. A flash of hatred consumed him as he thought about Oscorp and the way he had been discarded. He wanted to hurt them, and he could, in moments he could be inside their systems causing untold damage and sowing chaos that would take the fools months to fix. It would be so easy and it would feel good to hurt them as he had been. For a second Roman was poised to abandon his work and launch an assault on Oscorp's mainframe. But reason quickly prevailed. It was in the past, Roman reminded himself, he had to focus on the future.

Plus, such a rash action would not please his new lord and master.

Roman would have his revenge in due time. Once his work was complete. Taking a deep breath, he flexed his fingers and continued from where he had left off when he heard something.

For a second he was still. He had heard it, but the moment it passed Roman doubted himself. There was never any noise down here. Except that which he created. Turning in his chair slowly, so that he might not mask a potential intruder with a sudden creak Roman peered out of his window into the dark world beyond his office. It remained still and quiet, and even as he held in his breath and strained his ears, willing them to detect even the softest whisper Roman began convincing himself that he had either imagined it, or created the noise himself.

He was alone down here. No one would ever come down here and disturb him. No one even knew he was down here to begin with.

Roman was, he turned back to his work, wasting time.

For several minutes he continued tapping away, making small but vital steps in the progress of his work. Results were all that ever mattered at Oscorp and the same was still true now.

Roman hated it, the short sightedness of his masters. If he was given the necessary time he would be able to do as was asked, it wasn't easy his work. Breaking into possibly the last known hard drive of Norman Osborn, a potential goldmine of secrets and power came with its fair share of problems.

Norman Osborn, whatever else Roman might have thought of him, was clearly a careful, paranoid and downright devious individual. He paused and looked around at his office, hidden below Oscorp Tower. Yes, Osborn loved his secrets, and had done a wonderful job in keeping them from Roman, but Osborn was also dead and he wasn't, allowing Roman the time necessary to slowly peel back the defences of the hard drive and peer inside.

It was slow-going, but Roman's ultimate victory over his former employer was all but certain. All he needed was time.

A fresh window popped up on Roman's monitor. He wanted to ignore it. To put his nose to the grindstone and get past the second level of security that Norman had emplaced around his precious files. But the window had caught his attention. It was a spy program, one he himself had written. Opening it with a click of his mouse Roman read the report quickly.

That was strange.

A large amount of data had just been extracted regarding Oscorp's weapons division. Roman checked the time, not realising how late it had gotten. Harold Lexington knew that he shouldn't allow himself to become distracted like this, but what was happening a dozen floors above his head was important.

The kind of thing his boss paid him to keep an eye out for.

The spy program let Roman know exactly from which computer the extraction was taking place. The one sitting in Doctor Leeson's office. Very strange indeed.

Roman got to work. Diving into Oscorp's mainframe he began searching for the good doctor, and was presented with several files on the man, oh yes, Norman Osborn was paranoid and anyone of significance had tabs kept on them. Putting aside the reading material for later, Roman checked to see when the good doctor had last used his id card to access the building.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Doctor Leeson had clocked out of Oscorp at six thirty, as he had done for the past three weeks. And with a few quick clicks here and there Roman saw that no one had swiped into the good doctor's office since Leeson had left it around six twenty-eight. That had been almost four hours ago.

Taking his hand off the mouse, Roman reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a phone with only a single number saved on it.

He was only ever to call in cases of supreme importance. But this was important, or at least, Roman thought it was anyway. After all the weapons division was a hot topic for his boss and he would surely want to know if someone was swiping a load of information regarding it.

He turned on the phone, waiting for the device to power up.

A gentle tapping on glass caused Roman to jump up from his chair. Whirling around he dropped the phone and almost caught his foot among the base of his seat as he found himself staring at his office's window.

He should have known it was him. There was only one person who knew that he existed, who knew what he was doing down here, his own employer. Mentally kicking himself at his open show of fear, Harold 'Roman' Lexington steeled himself for another dread inducing meeting with his lord and master.

The Green Goblin.

Opening the door with showman's flare the infamous terror of New York stepped inside Roman's office. "Working late again?" The Goblin asked with a sickening smile.

Roman nodded. Standing up at his full height Roman knew he was two to three inches taller than the Green Goblin and in his head that thought seemed to comfort him. He also knew it was all fake; the face of the goblin, that horrible smiling face was all just a cheap Halloween like mask.

Roman had felt it once, he knew it was made of some sort of synthetic material. He didn't know what exactly but it was all make-believe. Behind that mask the Goblin was just an ordinary man, no different from himself.

He knew all of this, but it still didn't stop the shiver of fear that crept up Roman's spine.

"Actually sir I was about to call you." Roman started, hating himself for the slight tremble in his bottom lip as he spoke. It was all an act. The Goblin's just a fake. A freak in a costume.

"Really?" The Goblin asked coyly. "Great minds think alike as they say Roman. It's a shame you didn't call me earlier, could have saved me a trip."

The Green Goblin slowly advanced and Roman found himself frozen in place.

"Sir something has happened, I jus-"

"Did you get my message?" The Goblin interrupted. Roman's mind went blank. Message? What message? "No? It was nothing important, just a simple request, a quick update from my favourite tech guy regarding our little project."

"Oh." Roman said. "Oh yes sir. I did get that and I meant to tell you but things have bee-"

The Goblin interrupted Roman again. This time grabbing the tall man by his collar and with a twist of his hips threw the computer genius to the floor. It all happened so fast that Roman didn't have a second to comprehend it all. He hit the ground hard but before he could even sit up or attempt to defend himself the Green Goblin was pinning him to the ground.

A piece of cold metal was pressed against Roman's throat. He recognised it instantly.

A razor bat.

"Do you think I like sneaking down into Osborn's old dump just to listen to you gab away?" The Green Goblin asked turning the razor bat so that it was now the edge, not the flat that was pressed against Roman's throat. "I give an order you jump. Understand?" Roman nodded, ignoring how the cold blade tickled his skin with his jerky movements. "I want an update and you say, of course sir, anything you say sir."

"Yes sir, anything you say sir." Roman pleaded as he stared into those sick eyes. It was just a mask he knew. But it was so easy to doubt it. To believe that the Green Goblin really was a monster from folktale. The Goblin brought his face close to Roman's allowing him to see every detail of his horrible visage. "Now explain to me, in as few words as possible why I shouldn't paint this miserable room with your blood?

Roman's throat was so dry he wasn't sure if he could pronounce the words right. He took a breath, once more feeling the razor bat press against his throat.

"I've gotten-I got-" Roman swallowed and started again. "I got into the hard drive sir."

The Goblin's eyes widened and for a moment that gleam of madness that danced within them faded. Pulling back his face the Goblin slowly stood up, but Roman remained still, knowing that the gears in his lord and master's head were slowly turning and that it wasn't wise to interrupt him.

"Show me." The Goblin said after the longest minute of Roman's life.

Clumsily getting to his feet, not caring about his dignity, only about speed, Roman ran to his chair and sat down. The Goblin moved close behind him.

Beads of sweat had started to trickle their way down Roman's forehead but he didn't dare wipe them away. Instead he began to do what made him special, what had gotten him noticed at his mundane job here at Oscorp, what had gotten him attention and praise, the skill that had made him a liability and lead Roman to being fired. The special talent that had brought him into the Green Goblin's fold.

Harold 'Roman' Lexington began typing and worked his magic.

"So the first password was a thirty-eight character combination of both letters and numbers that could only be-"

"Spare me the technobabble." The Goblin commanded.

"Yes sir."

Opening the hard drive on his monitor, Roman put in the thirty-eight character password flawlessly which then granted him access to Norman's final treasure trove. The screen changed and revealed four folders sitting on the drive.

The Green Goblin leaned in close, so that his masked face was mere inches from Romans. "Jackpot!" He snarled.

Grabbing at the mouse, the Green Goblin brought the cursor to hover over the first of the files and double clicked.

A small window opened.

 **Password** :

The Goblin's fury was immediate. "Roman! Type in the password now."

"I can't." Roman said, trying to make his voice brave but almost choked with the effort. "I don't know this one's."

The Green Goblin gripped the back of Roman's chair and spun it so that he Harold Lexington now faced him. "You mean that Osborn put a different password on each of these things?"

The Goblin was starting to breath hard now, and Roman was certain he was words away from an outburst which would result in his death. He chose his words carefully.

"Mr. Osborn-"

"Don't call him that!" Roman flinched and believed that these were his final moments and that in reflection he had chosen his words very poorly. "You work for me. Understand? Not Osborn, never Osborn. He tossed you out on the streets without a second thought. He was a slimy self-serving worm who squandered his power. Osborn." The razor bat's metal skin flashed in the light as the Green Goblin raised the hand holding the weapon high above his head. "Left me trapped in a position where I have to clean up his mess, without a penny to show for it."

The razor bat was thrown out the office door and for a few seconds Roman could hear the sound of the weapon slicing through several plastic walls that made up the cubicles.

Then the only sound in that little office hidden deep beneath Oscorp was the sounds of two men breathing, both of them shaking, but for very different reasons.

Roman was the first to speak.

"I can tell you what's in each of the files."

The Green Goblin turned away, and walked with heavy steps towards the office window and starred out into the darkness. "Even in death he thinks he owns me." He whispered to himself. "But I'm going to take it all Roman. You'll see. Everything I was owed and more."

"Sir?"

The Goblin waved a gloved hand. "Tell me what's in them."

"Well the files names are in code, one that Mr-, I mean, Osborn himself created many years ago back in college. He appeared to be quite paranoid about such things even then."

"Of course he was." The Green Goblin muttered, not interested in the history lesson.

"He used it several times for Oscorp projects he wanted to keep a secret, and by digging through the old archives I was able to find a reference key for the code, it took me some time but I managed to translate out a name for each file while I worked on the decryption." Roman continued, feeling a little more confident in his chances of survival now that his lord and master had seemed to have exhausted his anger. "The first file is all about laboratory K-five.

"K-five?" The Goblin turned his head and peeked over his shoulder towards Roman. "K-five the chemical lab?"

Roman nodded. "Yes sir. I did some homework when I discovered the name; it was shut down almost eight years ago."

"Lies!" The Goblin cheerfully cried out and Roman could once again see the madness dancing in his sick yellow eyes. As he talked he began to pace, energy returning to madman's movements. "Osborn was put under pressure to cease all production due to whispers of chemical weapons being developed, but Osborn simply closed down the facility and moved the entire operation elsewhere. They've been cooking up dirty bombs, poisons, and all sorts of nasty surprised for years."

"Ho- how do you know all this sir?" Roman asked, surprised that his own research within the company's records made it seem like an open and shut case, no matter which angle of the events he looked at.

"Osborn told me so. The braggart loved to talk about it, never would tell me where it was stationed but I know enough about the weapons market to know that place is worth a fortune."

Moving like a dancer, the Green Goblin moved behind Roman and leaned forward. "What else have you got for me?"

"Well the second file is about G-eighty-three-M-Green."

"The formula!" Roman flinched as a pair of gloved hands clenched onto the top of his shoulders. In a moment's panic Harold Lexington feared that the Goblin was going to throttle him but instead he found himself being clinged onto by the masked menace. "That's it. Globulin Green, the serum that gave Osborn his powers. I want it. Give it to me. Now!"

"I'm trying sir, but it-"

"No excuses." The Goblin commanded. "With that serum, I won't have to follow Osborn or his worm's orders ever again. It will be the key to a new era Roman, my era." The hands holding onto Roman's shoulders began to squeeze causing a gasp of pain to slip through Roman's lips. "They all think I'm Norman's puppet, that I have to dance to his jig. But with that kind of power I could do anything. Destroy his lackeys, destroy his legacy."

An all too familiar smile grew on the Goblin's face and he tightened his hold.

"I could wipe out Spider-Man all by myself. I could do what Osborn couldn't and become the new big man of crime."

"Sir?" Roman hissed as the iron grip on his shoulder's was becoming too much to bear.

"Hmm? Oh yes. Don't you worry now; you'll get your share. Have no worries about that Roman, old pal." Releasing his hold the Goblin waved his hand at the monitor. "What else have we got to play with?"

"Well sir," Roman said placing a hand on his right shoulder and began to rub some circulation back into it. "That's a bit of a mystery."

"Mystery?" The Goblin asked.

"The third file is simply called Parker."

"Parker?" The Goblin repeated. He stepped away from Roman and placed a hand under his chin. "Parker."

"Yes sir, I believed it to be a name of an employee, since I found no projects given that codename."

"Parker." The Green Goblin said once more.

"I've found that Oscorp has over forty-three Parker's working for it, and the most senior of these is one doctor Lucas Parker, he's stationed at our, I mean, Oscorp's San Francisco branch, working on something called project Ares."

"Military contract." The Goblin said, impressing Roman again with his inner knowledge of Oscorp. "Parker. Parker."

"Sir?"

"I hear Osborn saying it Roman." The Green Goblin turned to face his subordinate. "I see his mouth moving. I know he mentioned a Parker to me once before but I don't remember the rest of the conversation."

The Goblin closed his eyes and for a second his masked face displayed only deep concentration. "Parker." He whispered. "Parker."

"No." The Goblin's eyes opened after a minute of focused chanting. "It's going to bug me all night Roman, but I cannot remember who or what Parker is."

"Would you like me to make that one a priority, after the Globulin Green of course."

The Green Goblin thought about this for a second. "No. Serum first, then our little chemical plant, should things go south it would be nice to have K-five to fall back onto."

Roman nodded. "The forth one sir is the last of the files to be added and is called Nano-suit."

"Nano-suit? Is Osborn doing this on purpose or something? What the hell does that mean?"

"Well sir, nanotechnology is a purely hypothetical scie-"

"I know what nanotechnology is you patronising weasel." The Green Goblin snapped. "What I want to know is what does it mean? Oscorp didn't have any nano projects."

"That is correct, sir." Roman nodded hastily. "Mr. Os- Norman Osborn didn't consider it a viable science, the company has never seriously looked into it."

"Bagh." The Goblin snarled, raising his arms above his head. "To hell with Osborn. We've got the jackpot right there." He pointed at the monitor, then turned his finger towards Roman. "Listen to me carefully Roman, old pal."

"I am listening sir."

"You are to do nothing else but work on decrypting that hard drive and getting me that formula. Understand?"

Roman nodded but the Goblin continued. "I want it. I need it. The quicker it's in my hands, the sooner we can take over and get ourselves onto easy street. There won't be anymore scurrying around like rats for us, we'll be ruling this entire city from the top. Got it?" Roman nodded once again. "But I need you to be quick now Roman, because Osborn's goons want me to keep teasing the Webhead and that's going to end only one way isn't it?" Roman dutifully nodded. "But if I get that serum." The Goblin closed his gloved hand into a fist.

Wanting the nerve racking meeting to come to a close Roman responded automatically. "I won't let you down sir."

"Good." The Goblin flashed a quick sinister smile, turned on his heels and strode towards the door.

Harold Lexington began to shake so relieved that he would live to see another day that the nail biting task set before him didn't even faze him.

It was only when he reached the door that the Goblin turned and looked over his shoulder; enjoying the reaction he had insisted into his underling. "Anything to add before I officially call this meeting to a close?"

Roman shook his head. And then he remembered something. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but there was something important he was supposed to tell the Goblin. "Sir. I-" He licked his lips before he continued. "I do have something else to show you. It's about the weapons division."

Stepping back into the office the Green Goblin wore an expression of concern. "Looks like we're both going to be clocking out late." He muttered and closed the door behind him.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, please leave any feedback you have to help me improve my writing or suggestions for the fic. A nice word also doesn't hurt.**


	8. Just our luck

Felicia Hardy sat alone at a two seated table near the back of the Coffee Bean café, patiently waiting for Peter Parker, who was, surprise, surprise, running late once again.

Slowly stirring her half-finished drink with a teaspoon, Felicia kept her eyes fixed upon the large glass window, hoping to catch sight of her ex fighting his way through the bustling crowds. In the meantime, she used Peter's predictable tardiness as a chance to once again go over the recruitment plan in her head.

Normally Felicia considered herself an expert when it came to navigating the waters of Spider-Man's mind but their recent night-time chase showed that while Peter was still the same dork as ever; something was clearly bothering him and it wasn't letting her Spider enjoy himself as he might have once had.

His new shorter fuse and zero tolerance on her less than legal practices were going to cause problems. Especially when the inevitable question surfaced on just how it was that she had acquired all that highly confidential information regarding Oscorp's weapons division. Felicia tapped her spoon against the side of the coffee mug in annoyance. She was going to have to sweet-talk her way around that one until Peter was fully on-board.

"Can I get you anything else?" A male barista beamed down at her. Invested in her thoughts and keeping her eyes open for Peter, Felicia had managed to ignore the Coffee Bean worker until he was inches from her. "We have an excellent selection of other drinks and desserts that I would be more than happy to make for you." He offered sweetly, with just a hint of desperation.

Giving him a pleasant smile then indicating her unfinished drink Felicia replied with, "I'm fine, thank you." and turned her attention back to window watching.

Disappointment washed over the barista's face but unable to think of anything further to say he offered up a second, less than genuine, smile, turned and walked back over the to the serving counter, shoulders slumped, where several of his colleagues were watching his return with knowing glances and half-hidden smirks.

A few seconds later and the bell above the door rang out and a dishevelled and slightly out of breath Peter Parker half stumbled and half tripped his way into the Coffee Bean café.

"My hero." Felicia whispered into her coffee mug as she brought it up to her lips, trying to hide her obvious amusement.

Taking a second to look around the crowded establishment, Peter was quickly able to spot Felicia thanks to her unique platinum coloured hair, and without wasting even a second to clean up his appearance; he began making his way towards her.

"Excuse me." Peter uttered several times as he slipped around servers and customers or nudged his way past a table hosting one to many coffee drinking patrons. "Sorry. Can I just slip by? No? Alright then. Sorry. Excuse me. Hey, that's my foot."

Several heads turned to watch this amusing journey and when it became apparent as to what Peter's ultimate destination was, the male barista from earlier pulled a face of utter disbelief.

Arriving at Felicia's table, Peter placed a hand on the back of the empty chair, pulled it out and then collapsed down onto it as casually as he would have done in his own home. It was only the slight hesitation he had with making eye contact with her that ruined his act, and showed that Peter was just as jittery as ever when it came to playing by Felicia Hardy's rules.

For a moment or two they stared at each other in silence, neither having anything clever or amusing to say to break the awkwardness of their first reunion without the comfort of their respective masks to hide behind.

Clearing his throat, it was Peter who broke the ice first. "Sorry that I'm late. Car problems."

Realising that the fun was now over, almost all of the prying eyes turned away from the handsome, if somewhat mismatched, couple and returned to their own affairs and interests.

"Another speeding ticket to hand out or did someone happen to 'lose' their keys again?" Felicia asked leaning forward, enjoying the hidden meaning behind their words.

"You know it was a bit of both actually."

"Well I'm glad that you're here now."

"Yeah." Peter nodded uncertainly. "Which brings me to my first question, what am I doing here exactly?"

"We need to talk." Felicia answered cryptically, enjoying the reaction it got from Peter. Checking to make sure that none of the occupants from the surrounding tables were eavesdropping, Peter leaned in closer.

"Seriously, what does that mean?" He asked in a whisper.

"It means that we-"

"Hey, want to order something?" The male barista asked, arriving with such momentum that he actually banged into the table, causing Peter and Felicia to pull apart, much to the coffee shop worker's satisfaction.

"No." Peter answered instantly. "Wait, yes." Looking around wildly, the wall crawling hero of New York searched the table for the menu that the same barista had taken away almost ten minutes earlier when Felicia had made her own order.

Rolling his eyes, the barista handed Peter a fresh menu who began to study the laminated piece of card intently, hiding his face from Felicia as his mind raced with questions and possible answers.

"I will have a double chocolate, uh, no. On second thoughts one…" Peter frowned and flipped the menu over. "Maybe a-"

"He'll have the same as me." Felicia decided, taking the menu from Peter's hands and returning it to the barista.

"Sure, that works." Peter nodded all smiles. It wasn't until the barista had taken his leave that his smile fell and he became all business. Leaning forward again he quickly whispered. "I meant what I said that night Cat."

Felicia waved her hand at that statement. "Yeah, yeah. I got the message loud and clear Mr. Sourpuss. This isn't about that."

"Oh? Well good."

"It's about us."

Peter fell back in his chair and sighed, mentally kicking himself. He really should have seen this coming, well he had, but yet he was still here. More fool him. "There is no us, remember?"

"There could be." Felicia countered but Peter quickly shook his head.

"No. You and I don't work, we can't. So let's just move on, okay? Okay."

He made to stand up but Felicia's booted foot stamped down on his easy to remove, well-worn trainer causing the wall crawler to bang his knee against the table and freeze up as his chair began to scrape backwards. "What if there is a reason for us to work?" Felicia pressed on, ignoring the surrounding people's glances of concern and amusement.

"Re- reason?" Peter looked at her blankly. "What reason?"

"We make a great team." She started to list off with her fingers, only for Peter to scoff. "And." She continued. "I know you will always try and do the right thing, despite your ill feelings."

He looked away at that comment, annoyed that she had summed up his insatiable hero complex so smoothly and angry that any response he might hurl in retaliation would only make him look childish. In the end Peter's only counter point was to fold his arms in defiance.

"So when I say I need your help, and that it's important I know you'll say, yes." She smiled smugly.

"I could always say no." Peter muttered under his breath, still not looking directly at her, knowing that he would see a gleam of triumph in those emerald eyes.

"But you won't."

The barista returned in short order, holding a mug of coffee balanced on a saucer. Thanking him quickly, Felicia shot down the man's hopeful look with a cold glare, growing tired of his shallow attempts to gain her affection.

Once the barista was gone for good she decided that it was time to get down to business.

"So how have you been?" She started, studying him for even the slightest reaction. Felicia needed to handle this delicately.

Peter shrugged. "Alright I guess. Things at Doctor Connors' lab have been keeping me on my toes." He picked up his drink and took a sip. "Plus I've been dealing with the usual woes the city likes to throw at me, oh and I had that shocking chemical plant rave the other night that was… fun." Peter took another sip. "This is really good by the way."

Ignoring his attempt at a joke, Felicia slid her hand across the table towards him. "I saw what happened while I was away." Peter stiffened slightly, his jaw tightening. He didn't look at her, instead staring intently at his drink. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." He lied.

"I'm sorry." She made to touch him, to try and convey just how awful she felt about not being present when things had gone to hell, but Peter avoided her hand by returning his coffee mug onto the saucer then sliding his own hands off the table and rested them on his knees.

"Why? I mean, it's not your fault." He turned his face away from her. "These things just happen." He uttered with a tone of resigned bitterness.

"I saw what happened, to the city, to innocent people and to you." Peter exhaled loudly through his nose and continued to avoid eye contact. Across the small table, Felicia could feel the silent fury building up within him. Normally Peter could joke about almost any of his past adventures or battles, even the ones where he hadn't come out on top. It was probably that which had helped keep him sane, considering all that he had faced during his eight years as Spider-Man. There were only a few instances, which Felicia had slowly learned about, that he hadn't been able to come to terms with and kept buried away, refusing to speak or acknowledge those moments he often considered his greatest failures.

It didn't take a genius to realise that this ordeal with the Goblin was now one of them.

"I'm sorry." She said again.

"Stop it." He muttered. Turning to face her, Peter's face was becoming flushed with anger. "Stop saying that. It wasn't you fault, you weren't here. It has nothing to do with you. So just please stop saying that."

"I should have been here." She argued.

"Well you weren't." He growled and then looked away again, folding his arms across his chest.

"Do you blame me for that?"

His index finger drummed against his arm. "No." He muttered after a pause.

Allowing a few seconds to pass in the hopes it would help Peter cool off, Felicia started again. "I want to help."

He didn't respond to that.

"I think that we, together, can make sure this never happens again." She tried, still nothing. Peter's entire focus was now on the far wall. Felicia frowned and waited. After a minute of the silent treatment, where Peter never once broke eye contact with the wall, the Black Cat decided that she'd had enough. "Or I can just do this alone while you sit here and throw a tantrum."

"What do you want from me?" Peter asked, revealing that he hadn't lost his ability to speak after all. "Why am I even here?"

"What I want is for you to act like a grown up and look at me when you speak. What I need is your help." Felicia snapped. "Which am I going to get first?"

That got his attention.

Turning to face her, Peter leaned in close, fighting to keep his voice low so as to not alert the entire Coffee Bean about his double life. "You weren't here okay; you missed the excitement and the fireworks. So stop pretending this is about me, or us, or whatever and just say what it is that you want. Either way I probably don't care. I've got a lot on my plate right now, so if this is all just some cheap new thrill for you, then you've wasted both of our time." He took a breath. "And, it's never going to happen again. It's over, finished. Done."

He was about to fall back against his chair, and most likely return to staring at the wall, but Felicia's hand shot out and grabbed his jacket collar and pulled him back in. "I get it," she hissed. "I know you got hurt by this and not just physically, and I am truly sorry but you need to get-."

Peter placed his hand over hers and with minimal effort began prying her fingers loose one by one. "Listen to me!" Felicia snarled. Getting a few of the surrounding coffee drinkers to look up.

Once free of her grip Peter stood up, turned, and marched towards the door. The clumsy, awkward young man from earlier was gone. Reading the expression on his face people quickly got out of his way or were brushed aside.

"Peter, stop!" Felicia yelled after him, giving chase. He didn't manage three more rage filled steps before the barista from earlier suddenly joined in.

"Hey, stop. You haven't paid." Sharply changing direction, Peter marched towards the coffee shop worker, who upon seeing the look of pure anger on the approaching man's face paused and began to back up. "Whoa, come on man, just chill."

Reaching into his pocket the wall crawler retrieved his wallet, pulled out a pair of crumpled bills and thrust them towards the barista's face. "Keep the change." He growled.

Peter made to leave but once again Felicia reached out and grabbed him. "We're not done."

"Oh yes we are." Peter stated. The barista, awkwardly holding the money Peter had presented him, shuffled from one foot to the other and was about to intercede when a combined glare from both Peter Parker and Felicia Hardy told him that he was an unwelcome third wheel, prompting the man to silently walk towards the register, aware that almost everybody in the coffee shop was watching the spectacle, and his retreat, with great interest.

"I am trying to help you." Felicia said, on the brink of losing all self-control. She knew this was going to be difficult but she'd never anticipated this. "So stop acting like a thick skulled idiot and listen to me!"

"Let go of me Felicia." Peter warned, as he tried to pull himself out of her hold. He took a step back and ended up dragging her across the floor with him, positioning them both in front of the large glass window.

"Should I call the cops?" A customer enquired loudly, causing several others to begin to rise up out of their seats and move towards the struggling duo.

"Hey, take it outside you two."

"Kiss. Kiss!"

"Would someone call a manager?"

Looking at the door, Peter shuffled towards it, not caring if Felicia continued to cling onto him or not. This had been a huge mistake, just as he had suspected it would be, and there were a million other things he could be doing right now that didn't involve his life becoming part of a public spectacle.

"Peter." Felicia tried one last time and the young man froze, feeling an all too familiar tingle at the back of his head.

He then shoved Felicia backwards, breaking her hold on him in an instant.

As Felicia's backside hit the oak flooring, the large window exploded into thousands of tiny glass shards that flew into the Coffee Bean café. Drowning out the customer's and staff member's unanimous shrieks and cries was the howling scream of a detonating pumpkin bomb.

* * *

Peter Parker braced himself as the hundreds of glass shards flew towards him. With his spider sense and incredible reflexes, he could have simply leaped to one side and avoided the tiny projectiles, but Felicia, while safer on the ground, could still be struck by a stray piece. So he stood his ground, shielding her as best as he could.

In less than a moment it was over.

Had he been a particularly vain young man, Peter might have been distraught to discover that his well-worn clothing now sported several new cuts and small holes.

Instead he moved without hesitation towards the source of the pumpkin bomb explosion. Jumping through the now empty Coffee Bean window, Peter found himself in a moment from his nightmares.

People were screaming, crying out in shock, stumbling away, running blindly or colliding into every person or object in their vicinity as they tried to escape the scene of the explosion. Cars, taxis and other vehicles came to screeching halts as their driver's slammed on their breaks, or swerved in blind panic to avoid colliding into each other. Peter could hear sirens in the distance over the sound of the chaos surrounding him. But what he couldn't hear was the roar of a glider's engine.

Looking up, straight into the air was… nothing.

Peter twisted and turned his head, ignoring the fact that his spider sense had fallen silent, an indication that he was in no immediate danger. There was no Green Goblin, no Norman Osborn. The sky was clear.

For a second Peter couldn't think. Someone ran into him, but he didn't budge, his eyes glued to the empty air above his head. He was so certain that he would be there. Grinning in sick delight at the destruction unfurling beneath him, cackling at Peter's inability to prevent his latest crime, the Green Goblin, Peter's waking nightmare.

But he wasn't there.

Of course he wasn't. Peter realised the problem immediately.

Norman Osborn was dead.

"Peter?" Felicia climbed through the broken window and walked up behind him, dragging the wall crawler back into the present.

He turned to face her. There was a lot running through his mind right now, and Peter wasn't sure how to say all that he was thinking. He meant to apologise for shoving her, even if he had done it to protect her from the glass. He wanted to explain what was happening, even if he himself couldn't get his head around it. He needed her to leave, to get as far away from this mess as she could, even if Felicia Hardy didn't need his protection.

"I-"

That was as far as Peter Parker got.

A second pumpkin bomb explosion rang out down the next street, followed by the sounds of chaos and distress.

Without looking back, Peter Parker ran towards the danger, not bothering to hide his incredible speed. In seconds he was moving so fast that even Olympic level athletes would be struggling to match his pace, a few seconds more and he would have left them in the dust. But as fast as Peter's legs were going, it paled in comparison to his mind.

Explanations for what was happening were produced, reviewed and then discarded as one fundamental truth circled around and around within Peter's brain. Norman Osborn, the Green Goblin was dead. He had to be. In the meantime, Peter's eyes and other enhanced senses sought out a secluded spot amongst the chaos for him to get changed.

He first saw a dark alley, but his spider sense tingled at that, warning him that while it may appear promising, taking that path wouldn't give him the privacy he needed. Peter then ran over a manhole cover and momentarily considered it. The sewers were, after all, a great place to hide, the smell and countless other unpleasant attributes kept most people from taking a trip down there, Goblin attack or not, but just as he was about to double back Peter spotted a far more hygienic solution to his problem.

A small Mom and Pop store, undergoing a series of renovations, covered with scaffolding and a deep blue tarp. Lost within the horde of people who were busy running and screaming in all directions, Peter was able to race towards this small haven and slip under the tarp without anyone paying him a second thought.

Changing out of his civilian clothing in record time, Peter bundled them up into an unfolded ball and wove a thin but sticky layer of webbing around them. Jumping out from his hiding spot, Peter Parker, now dressed as the Amazing Spider-Man, threw his bundle of clothing onto a ventilation duct running across a nearby building, where it would remain far out of reach for about an hour or so.

Stretching out his arm, Spider-Man curled his ring and middle fingers and pressed down on his web shooter trigger and began swinging towards an all too familiar scenario.

* * *

Several minutes earlier, when Peter Parker had first arrived at the Coffee Bean, Malone Alten and his hands for hire gang had just successfully pulled off a most profitable armed robbery of a convenience store.

It had all gone so smoothly, in the gang of criminals went, all geared up for the job. Gloves were worn; masks and other articles of clothing obscured their faces, ensuring that there would be no quick way for the police to identify anyone involved. Out came the pumpkin bomb, Malone hadn't even needed to arm the powerful explosive, the store owner, who had unfortunately seen first-hand the destruction that the Green Goblin had caused with such weapons, had immediately surrendered and promised to cooperate fully, if, no one in his store was harmed.

A deal was quickly made and a large amount of cash was handed over and collected in several identical duffle bags. As the bags were zipped up, Malone looked over at Vinny, his second in command, and couldn't help but feel that they had gone a little overkill. Each member of the gang was packing several of the Green Goblin's free samples, just in case, and in the end they had barley needed the one.

Bidding the owner a good day, the gang ran out the store, heading towards the pick-up point.

No one had gotten hurt, the money was secure and in a few seconds Malone's cousin, Bernie, was about to race around the corner in their getaway car. Only in the movies had a crime been committed so flawlessly.

But it was here that the first and most critical snag in the plan occurred.

Bernie did not turn the corner in their getaway car. In fact Bernie did not show up at all.

The reason for this is that several minutes before the robbery had occurred, when Felicia Hardy had first chosen her drink and began her wait for Peter Parker to arrive, Bernie had been on his way to the pick-up point, carefully following the plan that Malone had laid out to him. He had been on time, almost down to the second, but as so often happens in New York traffic, the unexpected happened. One moment Bernie had been on script, the next a police car was racing towards him with its lights flashing and sirens blaring.

Had he waited and kept a cool head, Bernie would have seen that this particular police car was responding to a call and would have driven right past him.

But Bernie had panicked.

He'd put his foot down and drove into oncoming traffic to avoid what he believed was his pursuer. The cop car saw everything but deemed that their first duty was to the original call.

As luck would have it, a certain wall crawling hero had been swinging by and had seen everything.

Bernie now had the undivided attention of Spider-Man.

The chase didn't last long.

When Bernie refused to pull over, Spider-Man made him.

Three minutes later and a pair of officers on foot patrol came across the webbed up Bernie, stuck to his vehicle like a ghastly hood ornament, without a license or any form of ID, a concealed weapon and a refusal to answer any questions, but a never ending demand for his phone call.

This was how Malone's perfect robbery came to a close.

Standing on a street corner, looking very conspicuous, with several duffle bags full of cash and armed with pumpkin bombs and small firearms, Malone had to make a quick decision as bystanders and passers-by began to pull out there phones and give the masked gang suspicious second glances.

"Run!"

Fleeing like rats, the gang left the scene of their near perfect crime behind and began moving through the busy streets of New York. Some like Malone and Vinny were smart enough to realise that running down the sidewalk, wearing gloves and mask with a duffle bag slung over your shoulder made you look like a common criminal, and thus they removed their masks as they ran, hoping it would make them seem less like escaping thieves and more like the average New Yorker in a rush.

Other members of the criminal gang felt that speed was more important than subtlety, so rather than duck and weave through the endless mob of people that occupied the sidewalks, they began to run through and around traffic, believing that they would throw off any pursuers and gain a greater distance from the store that they had just robbed.

This proved to be wholly incorrect when drivers began to swerve and curse as they narrowly avoided hitting the masked gang members. Attention was drawn to the group and it didn't take too long before the individuals who had decided to flee into traffic were being pursued by a mixture of two beat cops, several angry drivers and a few enthusiastic citizens who wanted in on the action.

Malone knew that it was only a matter of time before one of his boys did something stupid in response. But he still wasn't prepared for what happened next.

One of his gang pulled out a pumpkin bomb. Malone wasn't sure if they meant to scare away their pursuers or actually use it on them, but during the confusion and chaos of the chase the explosive device was activated and a few seconds later Malone and his gang had gone from being petty thieves to domestic terrorists.

A shame really, it had all been going so perfect.

* * *

Several streets and half a dozen pumpkin bombs later and Malone's legs were beginning to ache. He was a generally fit criminal, doing his best to keep in shape, eat well, and a little run wasn't usually enough to wind him. But carrying a duffle bag full of cash over his shoulder and fleeing from what sounded like the entire police force stationed in New York had certainly added its unfair share of pressures onto him.

"This is bad." Vinny yelled, running alongside him.

"No shit!" Was the only reply Malone could think of. After the first bomb had been thrown, the gang had painted a giant target on their backs. The police had come out in force after them, and so far the only way to keep one step ahead had been to use more of the Green Goblin's free samples. Doing his best amidst the confusion to instruct his men to turn the explosives away from the crowds of people, Malone realised that their time in the big apple was at an end. It would take months, possibly longer, for them to wait for this wretched event to blow over.

Turning mid-step the leader of the criminal gang did a quick head count of his men. Vinny was right beside him, Oscar followed behind, puffing in exhaustion as he forced himself to keep moving. Mac was trailing behind and had still not taken off his mask. Brilliant. Leaving only Terry unaccounted for.

Malone did a little jump, trying to see over the heads of the several hundred people that they had sent scattering with their last thrown pumpkin bomb. There Terry was, struggling his way through the crowd.

"Come on." Malone yelled over the noise, aware that every second he dawdled put him and the rest of the group in danger. They needed to escape, all of them, if even a single member of his group got caught then Malone knew that they would be looking over their shoulders for the rest of their lives.

How had things gone so wrong?

There was a screech of tires and a wailing squad car tore into view, its lights flashing furiously as it charged towards Malone.

Reaching into his jacket, Malone drew out his pumpkin bomb, the same one he had shown to the store owner less than twenty minutes ago. It felt as if it had been so much longer. He pressed down on the top of the explosive, activating it, and then threw wildly at the cop car, throwing himself out of the way a short second later.

Tossing bombs at a stationary mannequin was one thing, but a loud, flashing, moving target was something else entirely.

The driver of the police car turned hard on the steering wheel and veered the vehicle out of the bomb's path and into the side of an abandoned taxi. The howl of the pumpkin bomb detonating caused Malone to flinch. He hadn't meant for things to turn out this way. It was supposed to have been a simple robbery.

Malone spared the crashed police car a quick glance, from where he stood he couldn't tell if the occupants were hurt or not, the damage didn't look too bad, and if they had been wearing seatbelts it should have minimised any serious injury. A yell from Terry snapped him out of such thoughts. Malone didn't have the time to be worrying about the cops right now; he had enough problems of his own.

"Terry, move it." He screamed in frustration. The final man was only a dozen or so feet from him now, with a fresh pumpkin bomb already in hand, but the never ending wail of approaching sirens warned the criminal gang that they were a long way from home free.

Malone felt inside of his jacket for another one of his own explosive free samples, praying that he didn't have to use any more of them, when from out of the sky came a red and blue meteor. The thing flew towards Terry at incredible speed, so fast that Malone couldn't even get out a warning shout before his comrade in arms was tackled to the ground by the colourful blur. Terry was sent rolling across the concrete road, becoming entangled with the meteor.

It was here that Malone recognised the meteor for what it was. And what had just happened in less than a blink of an eye.

For a second he considered helping Terry, jumping in and trying to fight off Spider-Man. But the rest of his group had never stopped and given all that he had heard about the wall crawler over the years, Malone doubted that he could handle the guy who had repeatedly taken Rhino down.

In the end it came down to choosing between his own freedom or Terry's.

Turning away from his friend, Malone began running after the remaining members of his gang. His legs ached, but he didn't care. His breathing was coming out in forced huffs as he pushed himself to move faster and the bag of cash slung over his should felt less like a well-earned prize and more like a handicapping punishment, slowing him down.

How had things gone so wrong?

* * *

Spider-Man didn't feel the impact of the ground as he fell away from the fleeing man. In less than a second he was up on his feet and had jumped the short distance over to Terry, who had just come to a rolling stop.

The man let out a groan and had his eyes shut tight, a common response to being blindsided at high speeds by everyone's favourite wall crawler. Normally Peter could web up such people and leave them somewhere safe for the police to find, as the ensuing headache meant they would provide little more trouble.

But Spider-Man wasn't really thinking about how bad Terry's world was spinning right now. Grabbing him by the collar, he pulled the gang member to his feet, a moan of pain quickly followed, and like a man who had one to many drinks; Terry reached for his head with slow and uncertain movements.

"Where did you get the pumpkin bombs?" Spider-Man asked slowly, for the benefit of Terry's scrambled brain.

"Wha?" Was the reply.

Where. Did. You. Get. The. Pumpkin. Bombs?" Spider-Man repeated, feeling a cold fire spread through him as he spoke. He wanted to hurt this man, he may not have been wearing one of the Goblin's little jack-o-lantern masks but he was every bit as dangerous and thoughtless as the members of Pumpkin heads. People could have been killed by those bombs, innocent people, and for what?

"I don't- ?" Terry stumbled over his words. "W-what happened?"

Peter felt a frighteningly strong desire to twist his hips and hurl Terry into the nearest stationary object; it wouldn't have gotten the man to answer his questions any quicker. But right now that didn't really matter much to the wall crawler as he took in the all too familiar scene of destruction. Besides, with each passing second the answer was becoming all the more obvious.

It was just like that would be thief had said in the alleyway.

As impossible as it was, the Green Goblin was back and selling his weapons to common street thugs.

Spider-Man turned his head when he heard the sound of a car door being opened. Stumbling out of the crashed squad car came a young officer, who despite being a little shaken, appeared to be unharmed from the incident. Steadying themselves with the car door, the police officer looked up and spotted Spider-Man and his captive and did a double take.

Believing that he could get no more information from the man, Peter shoved Terry towards the crashed cop car. Tripping over his own feet, the criminal fell down onto the road and let out another groan.

"Do you have any idea how many people you might have killed?" Spider-Man asked coldly, watching as Terry rolled over and finally opened his eyes, blinking slowly as the world came back to him. "Does that even matter to you?"

For a moment the man stared at the wall crawler in utter confusion, but then a look of clarity crossed Terry's eyes.

"Hey, hey, I know that-, you, you're Spider-Man."

Firing a thin strand of webbing towards Terry's forgotten pumpkin bomb that had rolled away during the high speed tackle, Peter pulled the explosive device into his waiting hand and then swung it, still attached to the web line at the downed criminal.

Terry flinched and shut his eyes tight as the pumpkin bomb landed next to his head, stuck to the ground by the web coating.

"He's all yours." Peter said to the gawking police officer before jumping a dozen feet into the air, firing off a web line and began swinging down the street. The guy hadn't been working alone and if Spider-Man was quick he might still be able to catch up to his friends and hopefully get some all important questions answered.

Like the current address of New York's most despised Goblin.

* * *

It didn't take Spider-Man long to catch up to the fleeing Malone. Feeling the tingle from his spider sense as he swung overhead, Peter jumped from his web line and landed on the side of a building. For a second he stared down at a group of two hundred or so people, each one trying to get as far away as possible from the scene of the last pumpkin bomb explosion and to their own idea of safety. It was almost impossible, even with his extra sense aiding him to identify who among all those people was a threat and who was simply running scared. Peter's eyes roamed from one individual to the next, hoping to spot something, anything, incriminating, before his spider sense fell silent and the bomber managed to slip away.

It was one of those happy ironies that made Malone stand out from the rest of crowd, as the duffle bag filled with stolen money was still slung over his shoulder, a duffle bag that was a perfect match to the one that Terry had been wearing only a few short minutes ago. Observing the man for a few seconds longer as he weaved his way through the crowd, Spider-Man felt another quick tingle, confirming his hunch.

Instead of leaping from his perch and treating Malone to a similar aerial tackle, Peter decided to play the long game and began to follow the man. Taking to the rooftops, Spider-Man never let the criminal out of his sight for more than a few seconds, as he moved silently from cover to cover.

Even though he believed himself to be well hidden among the crowd of people, Malone was still cautious and displayed a level of intelligence not usually found within New York's street thugs. Every few seconds the gang leader would glance over his shoulder, looking not directly behind him, but up to the skyline where Spider-Man would usually be swinging. Over several streets this game continued, with Peter remaining in the shadows and watching his target move further and further away from the last bomb attack site.

Now hidden behind a water tower, Peter's white mask eyes narrowed as Malone stood for a few seconds longer than was comfortable, surveying the rooftops. Then at last feeling safe, the hands for hire leader turned and began walking down the street as casually as if it had been any other day. Peter patiently waited a few moments before following.

Vinny was the first to reunite with his leader. Just as frustrated as Malone was at how things had gone that day, the second in command quickly voiced his opinion that taking the Goblin's free samples had been a huge mistake.

"It doesn't matter now." Malone muttered as a wailing ambulance raced past them. "Terry got caught by Spider-Man, which means we need to get out of town ASAP."

"What, the bug showed up too?" Vinny checked behind him. Had he turned his head to the left and strained his neck he might have caught a flash of blue and red as Spider-Man flew over their heads and landed on a building on the opposite side of the street.

"Yeah." The surge of adrenaline that had helped Malone to keep going was starting to wear off and yet, despite wanting to go home and collapse onto his couch and sleep for a week, the hands for hire leader was determined to get the rest of his people out of the city before things got nasty.

He didn't have a plan beyond that. While his group weren't the most successful criminal organisation within New York, they had done rather well for themselves. Starting again from scratch somewhere far away was hardly appealing, but Malone didn't believe for a second that they would survive this by staying.

If Terry talked, and given the gravity of the situation it was less of an if and more of a when. When he talked, then it wouldn't really matter how far Malone and the others ran, that cops would have their names and they would be hunted down for the rest of their lives. Domestic terrorists, possible mass murderers. Things wouldn't be pleasant if they got arrested.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." He whispered to himself. "How did it all go so wrong?"

Vinny didn't know how to answer that. And he didn't have too, as he spotted Oscar and Mac, the last two members of their group, waving at them from across the street, then with only a quick glance to check for oncoming traffic, the duo began to cross the road.

High above their heads, Spider-Man watched as the group grew in numbers, was this all of them? He wondered.

There was more than enough to begin questioning, but Peter wasn't about to let a bomb carrying thug slip through the cracks if he could help it. Not after everything he had seen with the Pumpkin heads. So he settled on waiting for a little longer.

"We need to leave, now." Malone explained quickly, hoping that they weren't already too late. How long would it take for the cops to get Terry down to a station and begin questioning him? Would they have to wait for some sort of Special Forces to show up, or could they start right away? Would Terry still get a defence attorney after committing acts of domestic terrorism?

"Where are we going?" Mac asked, confused at the sudden change in their situation.

"I can't just leave." Oscar argued. "I have a life, what about Sharron and the kids?"

"We have to go now or it's all over for us, don't you get it?" Malone said, trying his best to keep his voice down, in case he gained any unwanted attention. Maybe he shouldn't be doing this in the middle of the sidewalk, but then again where else could they go? How much time did they have left?

Malone needed a minute, just a long minute by himself to collect his thoughts; he had been on the move ever since they had first started running after Bernie failed to show. His mind was staring to race around in circles and his patience was wearing thin.

How had it all gone so wrong?

"We don't have time to argue." Vinny stated. "The Goblin set us up, and if we don't leave we're on a one way trip to the chair."

"The chair?" Oscar's face drained of colour.

"Wait, the Goblin set us up?" Mac asked, confused. "How, when?"

"The bombs, idiot." Vinny snapped. "I knew something was up, and it all makes sense now. No one gives away weapons for free, he wanted rid of them and now we've gone and done it for him and painted a huge freaking target on our backs."

"But we didn't… did we hurt somebody?" Oscar whispered.

Malone felt his throat dry up. They had to leave now.

Spider-Man drummed his fingers against the edge of the building. They were all just talking, as if it were a normal day. The urge to drop down on the little group and dish out some well-deserved payback for all the people they had put in danger this morning was overwhelming.

But Peter held off for a few seconds more, waiting to see if any more rats would show up. He needed to know he had done everything he could to prevent this from happening again. First, by catching the idiots responsible and then the monster behind it all.

Norman Osborn.

But it couldn't really be Norman Osborn. Norman Osborn was dead.

Peter was there, he had seen it with his own eyes. The Goblin had died that night.

Right?

The group down below started to move, breaking off and going their own separate ways. It was now or never.

Standing up, Spider-Man took in the number of people walking around minding their own business down below him. In a few short seconds he would be putting them all in danger. He'd try and make it quick.

Taking a step off the rooftop, Spider-Man fell towards the pavement. Raising his arms, he realised that he probably should have checked his web fluid before he started this. Too late for that now.

Malone was watching his group walk away, heading home to try and pack up their lives and be ready to run in less than half an hour. It shouldn't have been like this. They should have been celebrating a job well done. Tossing back a few beers paid for by ill-gotten but easily acquired money.

What Malone wouldn't have given for a reset button.

The first shot of webbing hit him in the eyes. He stumbled backwards, banging into the glass of a store window as he fumbled for the goo blinding him. The second shot struck less than a second later, swallowing up his right hand in a sticky mitten so that when Malone put it to his face he quickly discovered that he had just glued an arm to his head.

Malone knew what was happening but he couldn't do much about it. He was blind and down an arm, not a great way to start a fight. "Guys, look out it's Spider-Man!" Was the last bit of good he could do for his men before a third and final web shot gagged him.

With one enemy down before he had even hit the ground, Peter wasted no time in moving onto the others.

Stretching out his arm, Spider-Man fired a web line towards Mac, which caught the man's left leg. Giving it a hard yank, Peter pulled the criminal off his feet and onto his back. As Vinny pulled out his handgun, Oscar felt inside his jacket for another one of the Goblin's free samples.

Peter's spider sense tingled.

Before he hit the pavement, Spider-Man fired two more web lines which struck the building across the street, then using his incredible upper body strength; the wall crawler pulled himself out of his free fall and back into the open air.

Vinny then began firing rounds furiously at Spider-Man, who twisted his body out of their path as he once again fell towards the ground. Aiming a web shooter, the wall crawler intended to end the threat of the gun by sending a small piece of webbing straight down the barrel just as Vinny fired.

But as the trigger was squeezed, Peter's spider sense let out a sharp warning, Oscar had activated the pumpkin bomb and, having taken no lesson from the day's events, had hurled it towards the web swinger.

Changing targets, Spider-Man fired a web line towards the pumpkin bomb and caught it in mid-air. Only to then feel a hot shearing pain run across his right shoulder. Hitting the ground on unsteady legs, Peter didn't take a second to check himself and instead began swinging the bomb on his webbing like a bola.

Releasing the explosive, Spider-Man watched it fly up into the air before detonating with a ghoulish scream. How he hated that sound.

Vinny meanwhile had emptied his weapon and was now fitting in a fresh magazine. Oscar however, having just witnessed the incredible display of speed and reflexes of his enemy, decided that it would be best if he didn't stick around for much longer.

Neither man were able to accomplish their goals.

Before Vinny could even raise his reloaded weapon Spider-Man was there and delivered a strong punch to the side of the man's head. Falling to his knees, the hands for hire gang member managed to catch himself before his face met the ground, but his whole world was now spinning.

Oscar meanwhile had only gotten a few meters away from Vinny before he felt a strong pair of hands latch onto his shoulders. Then he was spun furiously in the opposite direction, and almost tripped over his own feet. Spider-Man's fist sank into the man's lower belly, driving the wind from his lungs.

Then gasping for breath, Oscar was sent flying into Vinny like a missile. Both men tumbled into a pile and didn't get up. Leaving only Mac.

Standing up on unsteady legs, Mac had just seen what running accomplished when it came to Spider-Man and so he drew his gun, aimed and fired without a care if his bullets hit his teammates or the wall crawler.

Weaving through the bullets, guided by his spider sense, Peter reached out, took Mac's pistol in one hand and crushed the barrel. Pieces of broken metal fell to the ground and the last standing hands for hire member flinched at the sound they made.

"You're going to answer a few questions for me, okay?" Spider-Man said in a voice that was far from happy sounding.

Mac was going to respond with a submissive "okay", but instead found himself falling to the ground as Spider-Man's fist caught him under his chin.

Looking around at the beaten thugs, Spider-Man released a frustrated sigh.

He thought he was done with this. With all of this. The end of the Green Goblin was supposed to mark the end of this violent chapter in New York's story. Now it was happening all over again.

Hearing the sound of approaching sirens in the distance, Peter took a moment to refill his web shooters. As he raised his right arm, the wall crawler let out a hiss of pain as his right shoulder suddenly flared up. Running a hand over it, Spider-Man discovered that one of Vinny's bullets had almost found its mark and had grazed him, damaging his suit and leaving a small but aching cut across his shoulder.

"Great." Spider-Man summarised as he ignored the small wound and began gathering up the fallen members of the hands for hire gang.

* * *

Moving at a steady pace, Felicia Hardy followed the trail of destruction left by the hands for hire gang. Unlike Peter, who wore his Spidey outfit underneath his street clothes, her own costume and gear was stored safely back in her apartment, which unfortunately meant that she had to hoof it.

Things clearly hadn't gone the way she would have wanted them to with Peter. He was hurt, lashing out at the mere mention of the Green Goblin, and acting like a total ass. But there was no way that Felicia Hardy was giving up, going home, and trying again tomorrow. She wanted to make things right between her and Peter. As well as remove that gnawing feeling of guilt that had started to form ever since she had saw what had happened to her home during her absence.

But first things first, someone had just thrown a bomb in the middle of a crowded New York street and Felicia Hardy wanted to know who was responsible. The why, didn't really matter to the former jewel thief.

Turning a corner, the Black Cat saw a wave of people running towards her in blind panic as another distant explosion could be heard, followed by the sounds of small firearms. She was getting closer.

Gritting her teeth, Felicia began navigating her way through the sea of bodies trying to flee the scene in a blind, self-preserving, panic.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, please leave any feedback you have to help me improve my writing or suggestions for the fic. A nice word also doesn't hurt.**


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